I struggle with how to answer that question. I've been trying to come up with an answer that is better than "she's ok," but isn't more than people want to hear. How do I convey the reality of the situation without going into the details? Does it matter? Do people just want to hear that Maia's great? The question is just like "How are you?" 99.9% of the time, I will answer "Fine, thanks" or "good" even when I'm not. Because really, it's a courtesy question. No one expects you to be honest.
Now... let me preface what I'm going to say with this. I am being honest here. I understand that this may open me up for negative responses. I don't expect everyone to "get it" and that's ok. But, this is how I feel and where I'm at right now. So if you wish to judge me, you may want to skip the rest of this post.
From a health standpoint, yes... Maia's doing well. Her body is healing, she's strong (believe me, I know that from her pushing me away). Her surgical incisions look good. She's eating regular food, we aren't using any nutritional supplements at this point. Those are good things and I am thankful for them.
But... (gotta be a "but") remember, my warning above. It's hard for me to say that Maia's doing ok. Because she's NOT ok. She can't walk by herself, she can't turn herself over in bed (although she can and does spend much of her time sitting herself up), and if we sit her on the floor, she will scoot herself around a bit but doesn't seem to move with much intent. Maia is not able to communicate, she is not grasping things, not able to feed herself. And it stinks - plain and simple. It hurts me more deeply than I ever thought possible to see the things that Maia has lost. It hurts to not hear her voice talking to me, to feel her hands touching my face or holding mine. It breaks my heart that she can't play in her kitchen and make daddy coffee, eggs, and pizza (her favorite meal to "cook" for him). In reality, I know that these are not things that are going to come back overnight. But my heart still longs for that magic wand to be waved and for the "old" Maia to be back with us.
I don't mean the above to sound negative and as if I am giving up on her. That's not the case. I am grieving for those "cant's" while trying to celebrate the "can's" and praying for God's help with that. I think part of my struggle with the "How's Maia doing" question is that to say she's "ok" feels as if it diminishes the significance of what she has gone through and the long journey still ahead for her. And I'm not quite sure how to reconcile that. I suppose it will come with time and the healing of my heart. For now, I will continue to seek the right words (for me) to answer those who ask about her.