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Receiving a Diagnosis

In a sterile hospital room, I sat crossed legged on the floor with Cruz calmly in my lap. Facing outward, he knew I was crying, which made my heart ache more. Even at 11 months old, he was very aware of emotions. What was wrong with mommy? He kept trying to look at my face, which I desperately tried to hide from him. I never wanted him to see me cry, but he didn’t need to see me: he could feel the tremors of my chest and they were only made more pronounced by me trying to stop them. With a simple nod of the nurse’s head, she had confirmed that Cruz had Cerebral Palsy (CP). The appointment was over. Anything said after that wouldn’t have registered anyway. My baby was hurt; he had an injury in his brain. There was nothing anyone could have said at that point that would have even mattered. As a mom, I felt helpless. My job was to love and protect him, but I couldn’t protect him from this. I felt like I was letting him down. We were handed what my husband and I later coined our

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