Emme's Road to Recovery

The first thing we noticed after surgery was how sleepy she was.

For days, Emme drifted in and out of sleep, barely opening her eyes. The vibrant, curious little girl we knew was somewhere behind that haze, but in those early days, rest was her language. Her body was doing the work of healing, and all we could do was be there. Quiet. Watching. Waiting.

It was hard, not because we didn’t believe in the surgery, but because the stillness felt so unfamiliar. We missed her voice. Her smile. Her energy. But deep down, we knew her brain needed time.

Recovery came slowly at first. A yawn. A longer stretch awake. A flicker of recognition. Then, day by day, she began returning to us, not all at once, but in pieces. And with every little moment, our hope grew. She simply kept moving forward, one quiet moment at a time. Her strength is quiet but powerful. She navigated pain and confusion with a kind of grace we’ll never forget. And slowly, we began to see the changes; the progress we had dared to hope for. Her seizures became less frequent. Her mood lifted. Her spark began to return.

This part of the journey has taught us so much about patience, presence, and perspective. We’ve stopped waiting for the “big win” and started celebrating the little ones: the first laugh, the first time she reached for her favorite toy, the way she smiled when her siblings came into the room.

She’s not all the way there yet. But she’s coming back stronger. And in her healing, we’ve found our own.

Our daughter is showing us what resilience looks like. Not in grand gestures, but in quiet, steady courage.

And we couldn’t be prouder.