Last week this memory popped up on my Facebook feed and I had no idea what I had written way back in 2013.

I searched and found this post where I was trying to explain to a four-year-old Bridget (Boo back then) why she had to work so hard to make the tiniest progress and how sorry I was that I am the one that causes her the pain, procedures and therapies. Yet I never once in those four years, have I regretted one moment of this unexpected life.

Unfortunately, for Bridget, turning 16 was not sweet. It has been nine months of struggle and after a lot of work, acquiring not one but four more diagnoses and adding more doctors to her list of specialists.

Which brings me to this moment, where that letter to Bridget needs to be updated. *Tissue warning ahead.

Dear Bridget,

When you were placed in my arms almost 17 years ago, I had no idea how you would change our lives. You have impacted our family in every way. When people look at us and say they “don’t know how we do it”, the answer is quite simple: Because it’s Bridget.

Your life is unbelievably difficult. I do not think many truly understand the hard work you put into your day, from the moment you wake up until you finally fall asleep. You make it look too easy, sometimes, that even I forget that your life is not the one of a typical 16-year-old.

Your life is also unbelievably simple. You take enjoyment out of the smallest thing like Pop Tarts, being surprised every morning that they are in the cabinet. Watching Guardians of the Galaxy like it was the first time you ever saw Gamora. School which you loved, you now asked us to cancel.

Which is how we knew something was wrong this Spring. When you no longer enjoyed the things that brought you such immense pleasure. When you were stimming 20 hours a day and no longer interacting with the world. Doing the natural history with your team, we realized that the changes started happening almost a year ago.

I am sorry we failed you, Bridget, and did not notice that what we thought was just increased stimming (and possibly puberty) was something so much more. I am sorry that we did not stop it in time. I am sorry that the cure is so much worse than the newest medical diagnosis you are conquering.

More than that, I am sorry you once again saw me break. That in the hospital when the medication turned you into a raving two-year-old, I lost my shit when I cried and told the doctors this isn’t my girl. You screamed that you wanted dad to come get you and take home. At that moment, I felt you lost trust and faith in me.

That you heard me ugly crying to a friend late at night when I thought you were asleep.

That I made you go to a party I knew you were not mentally able to handle, and when we left that I had to pull over when you screamed, as you banged your head against my car window:

YOU MAD AT ME. I HATE YOU.

I pulled over and pulled you into my arms as we both cried. I tried to explain that I am not mad at you, in a way that you could understand. That I was just sad because you are in so much pain. That I feel tremendous guilt that you were happy stimming away, retreating from this world and I am doing my damnedest to pull you back into our lives. That I love you beyond measure and losing you is losing a piece of my heart.

And Bridget, I did not lose you to PACS1. I did not lose you to that guy from freaking Harvard who said you would never. I did not lose you to ASD. I did not lose you to the other freaking medical diagnoses you have managed to acquire in your 16 years.

Together while we may not have vanquished them, we are always winning the battles and will win the war. You, my little warrior, have challenged and beat anyone who dare to put limits on you. That said you could not or would not.

And we will win this one. Catatonia will not take you from us.

I am just so very sorry, that once again, I am the one who is hurting you by all the testing and treatments you are undergoing. That in order to bring you back into my world there are so many tests, procedures and medications.

Your life, my sweet Bridget, is not for cowards. You fight harder and have overcome more than anyone I have ever met. There are moments when your mom will be weak, when she will cry and be frustrated and be overcome with guilt.

But not because of you. Never because of you.

The sadness, the guilt and the tears, those moments when you might see me at my lowest is on me. See, your mom is supposed to be the strong one, your soft place to land, the place you always feel safest. Your mom is not supposed to hold you down for testing, force you into a johnny (by the way, nice right hook there when you tried to get out of it!) or subject you to painful procedures to try to find the root cause of your latest medical hurdle.

You are never supposed to think that I hate you or am mad at you.

That is what you see, when I don’t realize you are looking. When I have those what the fuck moments. Those moments are not because of you, but because of what all your medical issues do to you.

That is the part that quite frankly sucks.

That PACS1 continues to try to damage you, and as your mom it is my job to make sure it does not.

Deep breath, pulling on my big girl accountability panties moment…I will be more vigilant in the future, Bridget. When you are at your weakest, I will be at my strongest. When I need those moments to break and cry (and every mom deserves those), I will do my very best to make sure that you are not witnessed to them.

Because in those moments, you deserved better, Bridget. You deserved a mom who fights as hard as you.

This is my promise to you. Which honestly is kind of easy to make in this moment, since today you are having such a fantastic day!

We will continue to fight PACS1 together. I will be forever grateful that you continue to want to be in my arms and not fight to get out of them.

Love, your imperfect mom

PS: Let’s not tell your dad and sister that I am not perfect, okay? That can be our secret!

PPS: Today is a good day, as my friends now I never hit publish until it is. Bridget is doing better, she is now at home, and I truly think we are beginning to win this latest battle she faces. Thank you to every one of you who keep me strong enough to be Bridget’s mom.