You know when you have someone who you feel like is your rock? My daughter is my rock, the person I can talk to about anything. She knows just when to give advice, and when to simply be an ear. She has been the only person who I have accepted correction from. There has been this major shift though, following her MS diagnosis. I don't so much want to stand on my rock anymore, as much as I need to allow her to help me step up to something higher. She is teaching me how to step up.  

I will never learn to love this evil that has a hold on us, but I will love her even more than ever. When I had my daughter, and I counted those fingers and toes, and listened for that breath, I thought, "okay, it's all okay." And with something like this, I feel like a little of her breath has been taken away. I want to protect her no matter what, and I cannot. This is the hardest part of being a parent that I have known. If we ever have a cure for MS, and I am still on this planet, you can bet I will be the first to spit on MS's gravestone. 

I was going through old pictures and memorabilia the other day, and found a card that my daughter sent me. There was no date on it, but I could tell by her handwriting that she was grown. She wrote, "I love you more than the stars in the sky." And I love her more than the sand grains on the beach. It was a game we would play when she was little, and although she is grown, and we are facing new challenges, I am grateful that we have these little things that will always stay the same. 

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