Two years ago, I put my daughter, Lily, to bed. It was an ordinary night filled with the usual bedtime antics. She hesitated, argued, and took an unusually long time brushing her teeth. At the last moment, she remembered homework that needed to be completed. For our bedtime story, she picked “Madeline,” the longest book she could think of.
I wish I could tell you that we shared a precious moment during that reading, but the truth is far from it. I rushed through the story, my mind preoccupied with chores that awaited me—dishes to wash, toys scattered across the floor, and a television show I longed to enjoy alone, without interruptions. As I read, I skipped words and even entire pages, convincing myself it wouldn’t be the last time we would read that book together. I hurriedly kissed her goodnight and turned off the light, unsure if I even uttered the words, “I love you.” How I wish I could take that back.
The next morning, Lily was not the same child. In what felt like an instant, a condition later identified as autoimmune encephalitis stripped her of her joyful spirit, her memory, her ability to move and to speak. The girl I had known was gone.
In retrospect, I find some solace in not having anticipated such a drastic change. Yet, I often dwell on that night, wishing I had savored our time together, gazed into her eyes longer, and showered her with kisses. The thought of saying goodnight while knowing that light in her eyes might never return is unbearable.
That night haunts me because my love for her is intense and profound. Motherhood is a paradox: it is both exhausting and relentless. When I tucked Lily in, I had nothing left to give. But now, I’d do anything to reclaim those missed words and skipped pages.
A Message to All Mothers
So, to all mothers out there: stay present in those moments. Let the dishes pile up. Step over the toys. Embrace your children. Take care of yourself, and take care of them. Everything else will fall into place, or in the end, it simply won’t be what you remember. Cherish these moments; they are fleeting and irreplaceable.
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In summary, my experience with autoimmune encephalitis profoundly altered my relationship with my daughter. These moments of connection are precious and should never be taken for granted.
