“I don’t believe in weeds. Look at that glorious color. A weed is simply a flower somebody believes is out of place.” – Call the Midwife

Dandelions are funny little plants.

People spend their hard-earned money and valuable time trying to remove them from their lawns and garden beds. Not an easy task for a flower that is happy to bloom through a sidewalk crack. The thorn in the side of gardeners and lawn enthusiasts everywhere, it claims its place in the world with unmatched determination and persistence.

As a novice gardener, I used to put so much thought into my flower beds and loath trying to dig out those pesky dandelions that didn’t fit my vision of what my flower gardens should look like.

When my oldest daughter first started walking, she would toddle around our little back yard picking “lellows” until there wasn’t a single dandelion flower left in the yard. From that time on there would be little handfuls if dying yellow flowers all over my house for me to find. I decided I never wanted a yard free of those little “weeds” if it meant bringing so much joy to my little girl.

She didn’t know what a weed was. She saw bright yellow blossoms that were no different than the flowers I picked out and planted myself.

A couple years later we found out we were having another baby girl. I couldn’t wait. I imagined my two girls playing together, sharing each other’s secrets, and becoming the best of friends in a way that only sisters can. I planned how I was going to cultivate a space for my girls to be close as they grew up into strong, kind, independent women.

I was planning my garden of girls…my greatest challenge…my greatest work.

She was born in early March, late in the morning, and within the first hour we realized something was wrong. Her relatively short NICU stay would be the first of many hospital stays to come. She would spend the first two years of her life in excruciating pain as we fought to get answers. She would undergo two major surgeries before her third birthday and require medications with terrifying side effects just to reach a point of comfort.

It was dark. It was scary. There were no answers. Just immediate fixes to many problems.

I was also realizing that all my plans for my sweet girl had to change. She was going to be “different.” At four years old she is just now trying to crawl. We are learning to sign because she is nonverbal. My girls cannot play together in the way that I imagined. They cannot share secrets in the way I imagined. I will likely not help my littlest love get ready to go off to college, nor will I likely help her plan her wedding someday.

In the darkest days, I grieved. I was angry. Why did my little girl have to suffer like this? Why was she deprived of a “normal” life? Everything I wanted for her was not to be.

Did you know that dandelions are life sustaining plants?

From root to flower they provide food and medicine. The last plant you want to find in your garden is the first edible green after a long winter. They are a treatment for several ailments. They are beautiful blasts of color in an often-dim world. They are sweet little gifts from tiny chubby hands of little girls who love their mommas. They are delicate and strong. They are determined to thrive where they are planted.

The truth is my girls are close. It isn’t how I pictured it, but they are close. My oldest has never been phased by the things her sister cannot do. Instead she has been one of her little sister’s biggest cheerleaders for all the things she can do. My littlest love has only experienced unconditional love from her big sister and feels the same in return. The bond between them is stronger than anything I could have cultivated myself.

In fact, my perfectly cultivated life garden is nothing like I planned it. It is wild and messy. It’s full of dandelions and other life-giving plants that I wouldn’t have chosen. But it is so much better than my limited imagination could have planned.

When I see a dandelion pop through my regular garden, I often leave it alone now. It’s a little reminder that where I used to see a weed, my daughter sees a perfect flower. And aren’t flower gardens meant for flowers?

Where I used to see all the struggles that my youngest would have to endure and all the experiences she would not get to have, my oldest saw all the things she was learning to do and all the ways her sister could be included.

She is different and her very being brings joy and life that only she can bring. I have learned to look at life through that lens.

I have two incredible, beautifully different, healthy daughters. I cannot control their futures any more than I can control where dandelions grow.