Two views of snow and parenting

By Alicia DiFabio

It snowed again - enough to be either pretty or irritating, depending on your perspective. It was the same snow falling on all of us, but it provoked a broad spectrum of reactions. Some cursed it; others enjoyed it.

I personally enjoyed this particular snowfall, mainly because I had no reason to go out in it. I sat in my office checking e-mails, sipping hot peppermint tea, and writing, while my younger girls played pirates on the staircase. But I wondered how different my feelings might have been if I were outside, cold and wet, wiping off my car and slipping on the streets. In the end, it's all a matter of perspective.

It reminds me of my experience as the mother of a child with multiple disabilities resulting from brain damage. I always want to see the beauty and blessings in her, and I do much of the time, especially when I can quietly reflect.

But just as your mood changes abruptly when you go from watching the snow fall to digging your car out of it, so it can for the parent of a child with disabilities. You can philosophize all day, marveling at it through the window pane, but at some point you have to go out in it.

Coming to terms with my eldest daughter's diagnosis is one thing. Living the day-to-day of it is quite another. It does not always come easily.

You have to walk into a room and find your daughter thrashing on the floor with a bloody eyelid and a head contusion from falling out of bed midseizure. You have to go downstairs at 4 a.m. to find she's emptied the fridge, chewed through 10 cheese-stick packages, and broken a dozen eggs.

You have to leave parties early or skip them altogether. You have to change diapers for 15 years with no end in sight. You have to worry about who will care for her when you're old and frail, and when you're dead and gone.

Over and over again, you go out in it. You dig yourself out, and it keeps on falling.

But every so often, you find the hope, love, and blessings that keep you and your family going.

We love it or hate it as we do the falling snow, but in the end, the meaning of it is determined by each of us alone. The more beauty I find in it, the more grateful I feel, and the more the sadness and the anxiety recede.

Snow is cold. It can be dangerous and confining. But it can also be fun, beautiful, and peaceful, drawing us together as a family.

I can begin to see the beauty of it, instead of the frustration, by taking the time to witness every moment for all that it is, collecting moment after moment as they cascade from the heavens, each as unique as a snowflake. The moments layer gently on top of each other, creating days, and then years, and then the picturesque scene of a lifetime.

Will I look out and see it as beautiful? Every day, I will fight to make that choice. No matter what life brings, it's always worth the fight.