You Are a Passerby of My Past, Here's to My Free Future

In the second year I lay paralyzed in bed, my husband, Nathan Foster, treated me exactly as he always had. That day, as usual, he played me the video of our daughter making mud pies in the backyard. I brushed my fingers across the screen, over Gigi, and said offhandedly, "Gigi doesn't seem to have grown at all in the last six months or so." Nathan stiffened for a second, then smiled and soothed me. "She's been on medicine for half a year. Kids develop a little slower on it. She'll be fine once she's had time to recover."