Genevieve, Genevieve, Genevieve . . . being Genevieve. I think she was born with a flair for the dramatic. You can regularly find her making her own mock YouTube videos.
Having her climb into my lap, throw her arms around my neck, bury her head into my neck and state, “I don’t want to do it. I hate my life” was difficult. Yet another statement that I don’t have a good answer for . . . Guess what? I hate it, too, I wish that she didn’t have to go through this and it is most definitely not fair. Being the parent, it would probably be inappropriate for me to stomp my feet and throw a tantrum right along with her so instead, I just agree. Yes, it is not fair. Genevieve, I know that you can do this – you are strong and you won’t do this alone.
She bounced back from the conversation as if she had never said a word about hating her life and I was left feeling destroyed. A dear friend from college reminded me that all children say this at some point – while they don’t all face the same challenges, they all seem to have that moment where they make this exclamation. Truthfully, as an adult, I may have made the same statement over much less than what I am asking Genevieve to face next.
So life continues on in the Blue House. Still making memories and trying to cram as much fun and distraction as possible into the days before her pre-op appointment. It is a rollercoaster and I would be lying if I said that I was sleeping well and not crying daily – more like multiple times a day. Just know that we are also smiling, laughing and finding more moments of joy than sadness. Tomorrow, Genevieve has a date with her daddy at the American Girl Bistro and I will have some much needed time with my Harry at the movies and wandering around Legacy Place.
She is so strong – stronger than I am and stronger than she should have to be . . . I hate that this is her life, too.