Bridget has come so far, broken so many “barriers” since that one doctor told us she would never (insert milestone here).

Yet her milestones, every freaking one has come with a price.

Hours of feeding therapy to learn how to eat, to avoid a g-tube.

Hours of physical therapy to learn how to roll over, to walk, to jump and to navigate stairs.

Hours occupational therapy to deal with sensory issues, to learn how to write, to learn how to use an utensil and put on clothes

Hours of speech therapy to learn how to sign and then finally say Abbey. To need an interpreter all through public school when a new teacher would enter her life and her typical peers would have to let them know what Bridget was trying to say.

I hate the term typical peers.

Hours of ABA that had to be modified due to her stubbornness but without it she would not have ever been potty trained.

Even with being potty trained, she still pees and shits the bed.

I admit it.

I want that perfect child.

I don’t want to wake up in the morning and not only have to change a diaper but have to change the bedding.

I don’t want to have to deal with temper tantrums because she doesn’t understand she cannot eat the entire container of Oreos.

I don’t want my child in a special education school an hour away where I know no one and have no idea who her friends are. While I know she’s where she needs to be, I hate that I had to give up the dream of her graduating with her class or being a part of our village.

I don’t want to have 15 specialists, I want one pediatrician that we got once a year for the school form.

I don’t want Bridget to have to have 24/7 supervision, I want her to go to college, get married and have a family.

I don’t want her in a pre-training/vocational program. I want her to get a job just like her sister did at 14.

I don’t want an IEP or special education. I want education and field trips I don’t have to be a chaperone on.

I don’t want to have to base every freaking decision on what she can/cannot handle or have to modify a vacation. I want to be able to leave her home alone and have a date night with my husband.

I admit that while I will always see the silver lining, the clouds freaking hurt.

Bridget is so very happy. If she could read I probably wouldn’t write this (and if her sister reads it she will be rightfully pissed at me). Though if she could read I probably would not have to write this or would even think these thoughts.

But Bridget cannot read.

She cannot do math.

She will never live alone.

She will have an incredible life.

I just some days wish it was the typical, perfect life I thought we were promised when I saw that positive test. I love my child, I just wish she wasn’t a forever a 4-year old.

I admit it, I love my child but somedays I hate this life.