Yesterday may very well have been the hardest day of B's life so far. And it certainly wasn't one of our easiest either. The nerve block procedure was successful and has helped—to an extent. It has diminished the hypersensitivity in her leg, allowing us to finally touch the leg without causing immense pain. One of the most difficult parts of this for Noelle and me has been our inability to soothe the part of our daughter that hurts so much—we couldn't rub her leg or kiss her knee without making it feel worse. But those gentle caresses and soft pats that we, as parents, have been longing to give her can finally happen. For now, at least. Because the effects of the nerve block may prove to be only temporary.

The nerve block also did nothing for her mobility. Nor did it decrease the excruciating pain she feels upon anyone trying to bend her knee or ankle. And it was just such physical manipulation that B woke up to as she came out of anesthesia. The scene in the hospital yesterday morning is one I'll never forget, but would very much like to.

After being locked in a contracted position for so long, some of the tendons of her leg have already begun to shrink and shorten. This makes attempts to stretch them back into normal position all the more difficult and all the more painful. We can't let it continue to get worse. Which means more rigorous exercises, more frequently. Thankfully, B is now with a physical therapist who is not afraid to push her, and whom she likes and connects with on a personal level—someone B can still laugh with after that person just made her scream.

But the professional PT only happens once a day, and B needs to keep working on those joints throughout her waking hours. So the rest falls to us; stretches and bends (or attempts at bending, anyway) that have to be done constantly. And which alway hurt. A lot. But these exercises are the only way to make sure we get her leg back. I keep telling myself that as much as she hates all of this now, and as upset as she gets every time we say its time to work that leg, and as angry as she gets with us every time we tell her that, no, we can't stop doing this or no, we can't skip it his hour—she will look back on this in the future and thank us. I keep telling myself that because I have to. This is the hardest kind of love.