In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals.
Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often misunderstood as a simple growth disorder, but it is far more reaching. The pituitary gland is the “master gland” of the body. When it fails to produce essential hormones for growth, metabolism, and water balance, it’s like a command center that has lost its communication lines. It isn’t just about height; it’s about the signals for energy, metabolism, and the body’s ability to handle stress. For my daughter, Addy, life is a daily balance of ensuring those missing signals are replaced with precision and care.
Managing this condition requires a level of professional vigilance most people never have to consider. Our “normal” involves a strict schedule centered around her growth hormone injection pen. Every evening, that 0.5 mg dose is a lifeline, a manual way of giving her body the “go” signal her pituitary gland forgets to send. Beyond the injections, there is the mental load of staying alert to her physical cues. While we don’t do constant testing, I keep the glucose monitor ready for when it is truly necessary. I’ve learned to watch for the subtle shifts in her energy or behavior that tell me she needs a check, ensuring her body stays in balance without unnecessary pokes.
As a former CNA, I understand the clinical side of care, but nothing prepares you for the weight of being the primary medical manager for your own child. You become a nurse, a pharmacist, and an endocrine specialist all rolled into one. You learn to read the subtle cues of a “hormone crash” before it even happens. You learn that a simple cold isn’t just a cold—it’s a potential metabolic crisis that requires extra eyes and occasional testing to stay safe.
Through my page, Medical Mom Diaries, I share our journey to show the world that our progress isn’t just measured in inches. We measure progress in stable days and successful injections. We measure it in the moments she has the energy to just be a child, running and playing without her body giving out. We measure it in the successful navigation of a medical system that can often feel overwhelming to a single mother.
The “Adytude” you see in her spirit isn’t just personality—it’s resilience. It is the result of tireless work to ensure that, despite a pituitary gland that doesn’t send the right signals, her spirit never misses a beat. People see the growth, but they don’t see the pharmacy calls, the careful storage of her medication, or the intuitive eye I keep on her health. They don’t see the silent signals we manage every hour.
To the outside world, she is a little girl growing up. To me, she is a miracle of modern medicine and maternal persistence. We will keep making those marks on the wall, but we will always remember that the most important growth is the kind you can’t see with a ruler. It’s the strength she builds every day, and the voice I lend her until she is ready to use her own. This work is about making sure our stories—the stories of medical moms—are heard and respected for the professional-level care we provide every single day. We are more than just caregivers; we are the heartbeat of our children’s survival.
by Marissa Khosh 
by Hilary Doyle 
