The path.

Pure fear. Electric and bare. Nothing else was except fear. She was sleep-deprived and strained. Out of the tangle of anxiety and among the darkness the vaguely implied impending decline, a light emerged. Though it was dim at first, she became obsessed with it and it began to grow. Snap. She was fully awake again.

She became emboldened. She remembered. She remembered who she was and what she knew. She was not helpless nor was she stuck cowering in the dark. She was not at the mercy of the hoard of white coats making decisions about her baby. She had knowledge. She had power. She had connections. She had fire in her soul.

The more she questioned and sought answers, the brighter and hotter the fire grew until it was a raging inferno of determination. She was a force. Nothing would keep her from finding the right path. Every answer had to be precise. She wanted explanations. Why? Give solid reasons backed by research and experience. Any decision based on subjectivity was not acceptable. Wrong decisions, diagnosis, and medication could mean the end. Forging the right path is paramount. He agreed.

Logic was his doctrine. He ruled his domaine with thoughtful and measured moves. Each one with purpose. He was a fortitude of strength. He never blinked. His gaze could make anyone who spoke with anything other than certainty stumble. He demanded professionalism and results. And now… this was his boy. He doubled down.

They were a team. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. Unwavering. They are forever and always United. They will find THE path for their baby. The path that will allow him to thrive no matter the final diagnosis.

Again. Rise to me. I will blow you down.

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