Lola has started to develop in ways that floor me. She’s gaining hair on her head, slowly covering what had been a peach orb. She’s becoming a subtly dark haired girl though it’s still a guess as to what her hair color will be. The point is, she’s got a velvet dusting where once was pure skin. As I stroke her head, I’m in awe.
She’s moving more and more too. She rolls and scoots on her mats. She’s not yet crawling but she is in motion. It’s a blast to watch her at play. She also notices toys more and more. Rattles particularly grab her.
Then there’s the issue of sitting up. Lola Faye sits up more and more each day under her own power. She’s even sitting more in her walker. Her feet don’t touch the ground but she sits up!
As I watch her, I’m in awe of her. She’s gone from a blip on an ultrasound to a person. She’s alert. She’s alive.
And I need this.
This wasn’t an easy week. As an autistic, I worry about the people I love. Right now a good many of them are hurting. And I’m continuing to try and self care but my natural empathy means I worry about them even as I’m not there like I should be.
I had a series of panic attacks this week for that reason. I internalized their panic so severely it became my own. I’m slowly detoxing from it but I’m not unaware of it. I want those I love to feel safe.
So what I’m doing more than anything is focusing on Lola. The world is beyond my control. She’s not. My daughter defines that which I have some power over. I am her daddy after all. I can’t fix my friends’ world but I can fix Lola’s.
I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what’s coming. That frustrates me.
But I have Lola. I love her. I want to be there for her. She’s my beacon.