Day 6 of the 30 Day Photo Challenge

Today's challenge was simple, yet so difficult at the same time. To be able to choose this photo was the hard part, but picking who the photo would be of, that was easy.

Day 06 - A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day...

Look at this photo. Really look at it. What do you see here? A little girl in a hospital bed, smiling. How often do you see that? Each hand is taped up with an iv, she spent four days there getting shot after shot, test after test, and she's still smiling.

If I could trade places with anyone for the day, it would be her. She's my hero, hands down. She holds onto a strength I only dream of having, her smile illuminates any room, an her laugh is contagious. Does she deserve to have diabetes at 5 years old-something that will last her a lifetime? Absolutely not. She didn't ask for this hand to be dealt, yet she perseveres. To be able, for one day, to give her a normal life back, to take away the pain, fear, guilt, anger, and all the other emotions she feels but won't say, I would give anything to be her. To take away the lifetime of questions, stares, and comments she'll endure, even if just for a few minutes, would give me peace of mind.

To be able to see the world through her eyes, the eyes of an innocent child, is something I feel we've all lost. To laugh over the slightest thing, to be able to fall asleep with no thoughts running through my mind, how often I miss those things. Her biggest worry is what I packed in her lunch, or if her favorite pair of jeans are clean for school. Diabetes doesn't run her life, she does. She's independent and wise beyond her years, and honestly, there are times I think I'm actually jealous. I wish I could be whimsical, carefree, and as lovely as she is, but I'm her mom, and that's enough for me.

There are many, many days I sit around and feel sorry for her. Even now, I sit here with tears streaming down my face, wondering how she'll find someone to love her the way I do, how she'll enjoy the everyday joys of growing up, or how she'll ever have children and a family one day. She doesn't know my worries, and probably never will. She's beautiful, smart, and so strong. She doesn't know any different, and probably never will. That doesn't mean she has to like it, and that doesn't make it fair. The things she doesn't say are the things that break my heart. It's hearing her suck in a quick breath when a "mosquito bite" hurts, or when a tear squeaks it's way out of the corner of her eye, those are the moments the pieces of my heart shatter into smaller and smaller pieces. Her life will be full of hills to climb and hurdles to overcome. If for just one day, I could climb those hills or jump a few hurdles for her, I would. I would give anything.