One Year Seizure-Free ... The Milestone I've Prayed for

There are dates that live quietly in your calendar… and then there are dates that feel like miracles. This is one of the latter because we finally made it a full year (and one day for good measure) seizure-free!

If you’ve ever walked the road of epilepsy, you know that a year isn’t just 365 days. It’s 365 mornings of checking. 365 nights of listening. 365 quiet prayers whispered.

When my son was three years old, already navigating unimaginable grief after losing his dad and my dad shortly after, we were handed another life-altering diagnosis: epilepsy. Epilepsy has a way of keeping you in a constant state of vigilance. Even when things are “good,” you’re bracing.

It started subtly. Small hand tremors with him calmly and curiously saying to me, "Look Mama, my hand is moving." Movements that didn’t quite make sense. Moments that were easy to second-guess. Until they weren’t.

After numerous EEGs and MRIs, and an ungodly amount of doctors appointments, we learned he had focal epilepsy, also known as simple partial seizures. An abnormality on the left side of his brain was affecting the right side of his body. What began as tremors slowly intensified over time. The seizures became more disruptive. More frightening. I felt helpless.

When we moved out to Vegas, the first thing I did was find a good pediatric neurologist. We went through another round of countless appointments. EEGs. MRIs. Bloodwork. Medication adjustments. More bloodwork. More medication adjustments. The frequency of the seizures increased and there were moments of fear I didn’t always show on the outside. As a mom, you become both soft and fierce at the same time. There was a time where I thought we'd have to see a specialist out of state, and that terrified me to my core. I wondered if he would be able to have a normal life. Wondered how this would impact him at school. If he would be able to continue playing hockey. The what-ifs were endless.

But now? Now those feelings of uncertainty and fear have subsided. Because we finally made it a year seizure-free. He's on the right dose of medication and right now, it's working.

Even with this victory, we know his journey isn't over. He still needs the routine EEGs and MRIs. We still monitor. We still stay aware. Epilepsy doesn’t just disappear because a calendar page turns. But this milestone hits different. It feels like a deep exhale. That heavy weight on my chest is finally feeling lighter and I feel like he will have a normal life as he continues to grow up. Like we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Through grief. Through loss. Through neurological challenges. Through being three years old and having a body that didn’t always cooperate. He has continued to grow, adapt, and move forward with strength. This past year represents more than medical stability. It represents hope that the worst is behind us.

For any parent walking this road right now — I see you, counting days, resetting clocks, living appointment to appointment, staying overnight in the hospital. The quiet strength it takes to keep showing up is immeasurable.

And if you’re still in the early days of an epilepsy diagnosis, still searching for answers, still holding your breath… don’t lose heart. Milestones sometimes take time. Sometimes they take years. But they are possible. We are proof of that.