I think I can. I think I can. I think I can!

Olivia has always been a rather opinionated little girl.  She has been known to cry out if you provided the "wrong" food option to her.  She is quick to let you know that she does not want her diaper or her clothes changed.  Her night time routine also has certain standards that must be followed.  Olivia will point to the ceiling to signal that the pictogram is currently not being displayed above her crib and should be turned on promptly.  She will point to the curtains if they are not closed.  But most importantly, in her mind, she will let you know if you have selected a book she does not wish for you to read.

Books have been an important part of Olivia's routine.  We, I mean, SHE usually picks out four or five books that she wants read to her and these selections will last a few months at a time.  It gets pretty old reading the same four books for that length of time, but hey if she goes to bed, and stays in bed through the night, I will read her the same four books for the rest of her life if it works!  But on Monday, the day she got her cast put on her left (dominant) arm for constraint induced therapy, Olivia decided she wanted to add a new book into her regular rotation. 

Olivia's new favorite book, as of three nights ago is "The Little Blue Engine That Could".  This is the story of a little train carrying food and toys for the good boys and girls on the other side of the mountain and it suddenly breaks down and cannot make it over the mountain.  The toys and the dolls ask for help but the other engines are "too important" or "too tired" to help such a small little train over the mountain.  Then the toys and dolls ask the Little Blue Engine to help.  The Little Blue Engine is typically only used for switching trains and has never been over the mountain before.  But instead of giving up, the Little Blue Engine says, "I think I can.  I think I can.  I think I can," and with a lot of hard work, she is able to pull the little train over the mountain.

Sometimes I swear Olivia knows exactly what she needs when it comes to motivation.  She somehow finds the key to getting through these tough moments in life.  On Monday, I sat there watching the therapists attempting to place my daughter's "strong" arm into a cast and all I could do was hope we would be spared a serious meltdown.  I feared Olivia would crack under the new restraint being placed on her dominant arm.  I feared that Olivia would think "this is a trap, get me outta here" and try to flee the situation.  But instead, Olivia sat calmly on her father's lap, curiously watching the cast being constructed and then it finally enclosed the length of her arm down to her fingertips.  No tears.  No meltdown. Nothing.

Don't get me wrong, the past three (out of 23) days have not been a cake walk.  Olivia mostly maintains a level head (for a two year-old), despite no longer being able to complete many of her former capabilities.  The changes have taken a toll on Olivia, but also on the entire family.  My husband and I are already exhausted from getting up early and driving 40 minutes to her therapy sessions that last 90 minutes and then driving her back 40 minutes to day care.  The little things that she had been able to do with her left hand no longer exist.  Olivia cannot feed herself in the morning while we fix her lunch or get ourselves ready.  She can no longer drink her milk on her own, pick up her doll, her blanket, or anything that she would normally pick up.  It is hard for anyone, let alone a two year old, to be stripped of their independence and ability to complete the seemingly little things, but in reality, feeding ourselves is a major responsibility that we all take for granted.

But she still tries to feed herself and to pick things up as if nothing is restraining her entire left arm.  I can see the concentration on her face.  I swear her determination is palpable.  She wants to pick up those items so desperately that she is willing to go against her own logic (and two years of experience) and use her right hand and arm.  When she is trying so hard to use her right hand, I can imagine her thinking to herself, "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can!"  I know nothing can or will stand in her way.  She will get there.  Yes, there will be tears, and a few meltdowns and definitely some tantrums (all of which have occurred in the past 3 days).  But eventually, she will succeed and overcome these challenges.  Just like in the book, the Little Blue Engine eventually makes it over that mountain and as she makes her way down she says, "I thought I could.  I thought I could.  I thought I could." 

You will get to that point, Olivia, and one day that mountain will be behind you.