The Problem of Lennox-Gastaut

"Hush, hush, I'm right here." I say to the little girl in my arms. She probably can't hear me over her screams though.

She hides her head in my shoulder and continues to scream. Soon enough she calms down and looks at me. Her eyes are puffy and red. I blow a raspberry at her and she laughs. It makes me smile.

"Now, tell momma what was wrong," I say like she can talk, she babbles and I nod. Now that the screams are done, I feel grounded with her in my arms. She doesn't want me to put her down but I'll have to eventually.

She starts throwing a fit when I put her on the floor with her toys.

"No ma'am, we don't have temper tantrums just because we want to be held." I say lightly. I know she won't be small for long and I cherish it. I make her a bottle and give it to her. She smiles, unaware that my thoughts are turning dark.

I leave her to her room and curl up on the couch and start crying. I don't even know if she'll ever get so big I couldn't hold her, or if she'll make it to her next birthday. The doctors don't even know. They couldn't even predict how long she has left. All we know iisis I have to stay strong for her.