A day in the life of a BRAVE little girl

(This is from a blog I posted on June 29th on my personal page on our church social network, but it is so typical of a day in the life of a child with FASD.) Yesterday afternoon I gave a friend a ride out of town to visit his children. Our plans changed a little from what we had first planned and we ended up going to a park. For most children this would be a wonderful experience. Bright sunshine, warm breeze, a new friend to play with, playground equipment. All things kid's love.For my Mauda~kae it was a mixture of fun, anxiety,fear,tears,feeling inadequate, feeling "NOT brave", over whelmed, pain, and finally relief because we were finally leaving this "FUN" place.As she watches this new little friend climb the steps up the twisty slide, she decides she IS brave, and can do it too. But because she is SO frightened of heights AND stairs, her little legs are starting to shake,on step 1, as she continues to climb, the shaking spreads up her little body,on step3. She is now visibly shaking all over, with tears in her eyes,on step 5. As she continues to climb, she repeatedly says. " I am brave, I am brave" all the while reaching with one hand in front of her to steady herself, and reaching with the other hand behind her to be sure I am still behind her as we ascend the climb up the "Jungle Jim" type equipment.Because of the enormous amount of energy and strength it has taken her to make this climb, which for her is the equivalent of Mt. Rushmore, her breathing is now very rapid, her face is getting red, and splotchy, and now she is over heated. As we made the decent down the slide, which took another 2-3 minutes to coax her into, she is very over heated. On top of the anxiety, she can not control her body temperature due to some of her medications, so now she needs to take a rest in a shady area to cool down. Because of Sensory Processing Disorder, the wind is bothersome on her skin this afternoon, so she insists on leaving her long-sleeved shirt on, which adds to her being over heated.While sitting there, she makes the statement " this is not a good time for me, I can't do anything". As I make sure she is ok physically, wiping her red little face with a damp napkin, and making her drink some water, I'm trying to find the right words to encourage her spirit. I remind her of just how bravely she continued up the stairs even though she was afraid, and THEN went down the slide too. And how before that she STOOD UP and looked over the top to see the sights around her. And how while standing there, she CHOSE to walk around the "catwalk" to the other side and go to the slide. Its pretty easy to administer aid to someones body most of the time, but if their spirit is wounded, and goes untreated, it can be devastating, maybe even life threatening over time. I can't let that happen, even once to my child. Its been said that she is conceded, or that I have made the mistake of making her BELIEVE she is the BEST at everything she does. Maybe I do sometimes over do the " ata girl's" but I NEVER want her to feel she isn't good enough, or brave enough, or any of the "enoughs".She is God's best. She has the greatest laugh, the sweetest smile, an awesome sense of humor most of the time, the biggest heart, the greatest compassion for other's who are suffering, or at least who she thinks is suffering. She's nurturing. Even while she was frightened of the loud train that passed by the park, she made sure that her new little friend was ok too.Brave? She is brave. Brave enough to get out of bed everyday and endure the unending confusion that is ever present in her brain. Brave enough to take the 22 doses of medications that she hates everyday just so she can try and do some of the fun things she loves to do like color a picture, or look at a book, or if its a Saturday, to ride her therapy horse for an hour or endure the hour or so of sitting through a church service on Sunday morning with all the lights, and sounds and different smells from every one's cologne, or laundry products they use, or their hugs that sometimes hurt just because they are touching her. So, I guess it depends on the definition used to describe BRAVE. For me it is all the things that my precious little girl is.