special mothers

> > To All The Special Mothers
> >
> > Expectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival
> > say they don't care what sex the baby is. They just
> > want their baby 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 close, 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 mothers left the hospital with a healthy
> > bundle, then, months, even years later, you notice
> > something not quite right,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. Not my child.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 schmaltzy 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 to be a mom to a special needs child."
> >
> > 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 neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at
> > church.
> >
> > You're a wonder.
> >
> > YOU ARE SPECIAL