We were like shell-shocked war victims when we brought Cale home from the hospital this time. We knew we had just landed in an unknown land and we didn't' speak or understand the language. One of my deep, unspoken fears was that someone within our family would somehow see Cale as "less" and treat him as such. I knew his worth whatever his condition but I just didn't think everyone would. I could never stand the idea that anything he might be would not be honored in the same way that his sisters were. I worried that his cousins, grandparents and even sisters might treat him differently. I did a lot of praying in those first few days of this new life. I was angry with anyone who had a child that was "normal". I was angry with anyone who felt sorry for me and I was angry with God who seemed to not be paying attention when this stroke affected my Cale. I still prayed but the relationship was strained. I honored my Father in prayer as I had been taught to but my heart still held back my anger. I went through the motions in my life. I took care of my girls and my boy, went to PTA meetings where caring people told me how they knew if anyone could handle this new side of my life- I could. I kept thinking, 'do I have a choice?' I think in most circumstances the ability to deal with most things is in us all. It is just that we don't think we can do things until there is no choice.

Cale went to therapy, took his daily shots, smiled at us and grew. Still, I didn't know if he really understood us as his family. Looking back, I am sure he did. But then, I trusted nothing. The things I could count on had been taken away. I kept asking the neurologist what the future would be like for Cale and his answer was always, "I can't predict the future." I finally said, "Give me an educated guess." Still, no one had answers. After four months of steroid shots and a little baby that weighed thirty pounds, had hair all over him and panted when he breathed, the seizures continued. We began to wean him off the drugs as directed by the doctor. The withdrawal made him very ill and unhappy. He screamed and cried. When the drugs had been stopped, we sat in the neurologist's office and I asked, "After several months of the steroids, the weight gain, immunity problems and the weaning - the seizures never have let up. They are the same or maybe worse. So why did we do this exactly?" His answer was, "Yeah, it didn't work. But the parents usually feel better that we have done something." I couldn't believe it. We had pumped steroids into my baby with all of the side effects and potential dangers to make us feel better?! You probably think that we stormed out of there and never looked back. No, remember we were in an unknown land and the only interpreter we had was this man in front of us. We came back for four more years. Usually, I carried a pharmacy book and the research I had done on other seizure medications. The doctor would take my suggestion and ask with a pen poised over his prescription pad, "How much do you think we should prescribe?" And, I'd give him my uneducated ideas. You'd also think that I'd have a problem writing that $90.00 check when I left his office each time. I don't know who I was at that time who meekly went on with the process. The years and the crisis' to come would change me into a very different person.