'This, too, will pass.' Please know that it will. And please remind me of that if it cuts into our lane again.

I came to the startling realisation tonight that this month marks the third anniversary of Katelyn's closed reduction and pelvic osteotomy, following her late diagnosis with DDH in 2012.Despite being a girl, with a strong personality and with two older brothers, Katelyn didn't walk until she was 18 months old. And, when she did, it was bitter-sweet. We'd known, by then, for a couple of months that it wouldn't be long until those beautiful little legs of hers would soon not be trotting around our yard on a mischief-making-mission; rather, they'd be confined to a heavy, awkward plaster cast (a spica) for 3 months while her bones healed after her hip surgery.After the initial shock of the news, and after the fury around the missed diagnosis reduced to a slow simmer, I channeled all my energy into being the best-prepared Mum I could be. I joined (then fledgling) Facebook support groups so I could talk frankly and honestly with other parents in Australia and across the world who had dealt with the horrors of nightly muscle spasms (every three minutes to start with), and were experts in changing a nappy on a child in a spica cast (lots of fun!). I remain friends with many of those amazing people and enjoying keeping up to date with how they, and their children, are faring post-DDH. Already an enthusiastic gym-goer, I spent hours training at the gym before Kate's operation so I'd be able to physically bear the challenge of lifting and carrying a child in a frog-leg-spica (20-kilo-plus) everywhere. I was, and remain, great friends with the quiet of the early morning where I get to spend (sweaty) time on me. I devoured all the information and readings I could find on DDH and, after she returned home from a week in hospital, became re-accustomed to three-hourly night-wakings as Grant and I took turns to turn Katelyn and shift her position as she slept. I had to take time off from my communications career to look after Katelyn and found it really hard to adjust to being a stay-at-home mum with a preschooler, a toddler and an older baby in a plaster cast. I struggled, on a personal level, with the fact that having that time off work changed everything for me, because, professionally, things were never quite the same afterwards. I can see now, however, that that realisation was a blessing, and that it was life-changing.'Little Miss Giggles', today, is a 'force'. As the old saying goes, 'She is small, but she is fierce." Katie is bright, confident and has a wicked sense of humour. That little girl with the big brothers now gives as good as she gets, and while she simply 'must' accessorise every outfit, she's happiest playing 'wrestle footy' on the trampoline. All of that crawling she did in her cast has resulted in enviable upper body strength. She adores 'Mrs Blayden's Preschool', loves singing and reading, and is an exceptionally neat writer (thanks to fine motor skills honed while in her spica). Her delayed speech development has come along in leaps and bounds; yes, she's still behind, but she continues to improve and this month will recommence speech therapy to help ensure she's ready for school next year.We know there's a chance that Katelyn will need further surgery as she grows. I think as any DDH family can attest, it's always something that's in your  mind - every fall on a bike, every bottom-bounce of a trampoline, every 'My leg hurts' in the night. But, for now, things are good for us. For all our DDH friends, a phrase we wrote on our kitchen blackboard - 'This, too, will pass.' And it will. Please know that xx 

First ever Physie performance, Nov 2014

Physie, Nov 2014

A trophy! And a very proud big brother, Harry xx

Spreading the DDH word for Hope the Hippo in Cairns, Australia, July 2014 

Summer 2014 spent in the pool