someone was kind enough to send this to me, and i think it applies to most of us who have endured a hard road to parenthood. i have friends this applies to, and it is so true. hats off and hearts overflowing for these women. i don't know if i will be one of you, but i know if i need be, i will.

Mothers of children with disabilities worthy of praise By Lori Borgman Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service

Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just want it to have ten fingers and ten toes. Mothers lie. > Every mother wants so much more. She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes and satin skin. She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those first steps right on schedule (according to the baby development chart on page 57, column two). > Every mother wants a baby that can see, hear, run, jump and fire neurons by the billions. She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toe points that are the envy of the entire ballet class. Call it greed if you want, but a mother wants what a mother wants.

Some mothers get babies with something more. >

Maybe you're one who got a baby with a condition you couldn't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palette that didn't close. The doctor's words took your breath away. It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind right out of you. Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled her for a well check, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore the brunt of devastating news. It didn't seem possible. That didn't run in your family. Could this really be happening in your lifetime?

I watch the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing, it's a wondrous thing. They appear as specimens without flaw -- muscles, strength and coordination all working in perfect harmony. Then an athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler.

There's no such thing as a perfect body. Everybody will bear something at some time or another. Maybe the affliction will be apparent to curious eyes, or maybe it will be unseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery. Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.

Frankly, I don't know how you do it. Sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that kid in and out of the wheelchair twenty times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentioned souls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionally questioned if God is on strike.

I even wonder how you endure chmaltzy columns like this one -- saluting you, painting you as hero and saint, when you know you're ordinary. You snap, you bark, you bite. You didn't volunteer for this, you didn't jump up and down in the motherhood line yelling, "Choose me, God. Choose me! I've got what it takes."

You're a woman who doesn't have time to step back and put things in perspective, so let me do it for you. From where I sit, you're way ahead of the pack. You've developed the strength of a draft horse while holding onto the delicacy of a daffodil. You have a heart that melts like chocolate in a glove box in July, counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbour, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law. You're a wonder.

Comments

[Lioness]

Oh, so are you!!!

[Boulder]

I concur with Lioness!

A baby that makes its way into the world is a miracle any way you look at it, and those of us with IF know as well as anyone. All of the things that have to go exactly right to conceive and birth a child are truly amazing, you know? And, certainly we all do in our hearts want that "Olympian" when it comes down to it, whether we realize it or not. That is the image that we all carry while pursuing our dreams - a perfect baby. But when you meet your child for the first time - whether by the first flutter of movement or an ultrasound or by their cry at birth, you know that you are so happy to be their mum - no matter what lies ahead. And a mum that rises to the challenges of a baby with special needs turn out to be the "Olympian" in character, class, mentality and physical endurance to their family's and friends' perspectives. Strange the way the world works.

Thanks for sharing, darling.

[Trish]

That article was wonderful- it makes you realize that sometimes, some people DO see through to the truth of things. Even though they may never have the emotional experience of going through parenting a child with a disability, they TRY to understand. It seems so rare to find someone with that ability nowadays- everyone is so quick to judge and they want everything in black and white. Good/bad. No shades of gray. This columnist did a wonderful job showing that the good comes with the bad and there will always be shades of gray.

Thanks for sharing such a well-written article!

[Karen]

Tess, you've done it again...made me
so proud of your attitude...
My cousin gave birth nine years ago to a severely handicapped baby, named Tijana...
I sent her this article today,and I know she will 'get it', totally.She is living this article.

Hugs and love,
Karen

[Lindsey]

Tess,

I just wanted to say that I love the pics from Phuket. Seb looks so much like MC! It's amazing! He's like MC's little clone. Great article, it's so honest! Hats off!

Lindsey

[MelF]

I'm not sure if I enjoyed the article. My daughter was born with a cleft lip and palate, and I get tons of the "I don't now how you do it!" from my friends. What that implies to me is that "I could NEVER do that," which I want to say, "Oh you could, you could." Motherhood is tough, period. You deal with what you are dealt with. Sometimes I thank god for Emma's cleft, because i see it as a swift kick. I spent my entire pregancy wanting the perfect baby, with the "I don't know how they do it" attitude of mothers of kids with birth defects/disabilities, and thinking I couldn't accept that if it were my child. Now I know better. I look back and think how I could have been so vain and shallow.