My Child

Just how, how did it come to be?
My child...tainted by the horror that is epilepsy.
My child...damaged, delayed and wading through drug imposed delirium from day to day. Recently I've asked myself:
Who IS this child? There are moments, maybe hours where I see my darling Izabelle shine through, other times she's lost somewhere in one symptom or another. I look at other children happily playing while
My child...is too scared that she will have a seizure to stray too far away from me. I see toddlers string together sentences more easily then
My child can find words to express herself. The joy they say, you know parenting, has become a thankless chore,
a burden,
a disappointment...
Is it wrong that after days of time secluded within the intensive care of
My child... I yearn for the ease of connecting with a neuro typical child? This year has been so draining,
part of me has turned cold,
part of me has lost hope,
Part of me has emotionally disconnected and won't allow myself to be fully disappointed again.
I expect the worst...
Not to be grim, but that's the only true pattern with
My child's condition; that it's fucking worsening; that nothing fucking seems to work. Five years ago, it seemed like she was a typical child. I miss those sweet easy days when she was cheerful, happy, seemingly healthy and as plump as can one can be. Where did it all go wrong? Was it the vaccines? Were the seizures there the whole time? If so, how did I miss them?
I just want to go back there.
I don't want to be where we are today.
The most desperate thoughts flood my mind lately. I mentally and physically labor trying to find help for her, for me, so I can have a somewhat normal life too... Some days giving up seems to be the wisest answer. I'm lost now too, trying to help her.  I just want to be a happy, loving mom... not the nurse, the social worker, the pharmacist, the behaviorist... Just the loving mom. Is that too much to ask?