Being the mom of a special-needs kid is hard. Rewarding, but difficult. It is a roller-coaster. In the past week, we've gotten bad news about Brooklyn's speech progress, and good news about her progress in physical therapy. Up and down, up and down.
Yesterday, I was flipping through a magazine and came across a list of why moms with special-needs kids rock. And as I read through the list, my eyes got all teary... because I felt like someone else understood what I deal with on a regular basis. So... here is that list for all of you other special-needs moms. I hope it encourages you like it did me.
Why Moms of Special-Needs Kids Rock:
Because we never thought doing it all would mean doing this much. But we do it all, and then some. Because we've discovered patience we never knew we had. Because we are willing to do the same thing 1000 times if that is what it takes for our kids to learn something new. Because we have heard doctors tell us the worst, and we refuse to believe them. Because we have bad days and breakdowns, and then we pick ourselves up and keep right on going. Because we are strong...who knew we could be so strong? Because we aren't just moms, wives, cooks, cleaners, chauffers, and people who work. We are also physical therapists, speech therapists, first responders, nurses, teachers, coaches, and cheerleaders. Because we've spent countless hours on the phone and in meetings, fighting for our children. Because we give so much love to our kids, and then still have plenty left over for our other children. Because we understand our children better than anyone else, even if they can't speak. We know. We just know. Because we never stop pushing, never stop hoping for our kids. Because things seem to be going okay, and then suddenly they aren't. And we deal. We deal even when we feel as though our hearts might explode. Because we are always prepared for an emergency. Because sometimes our weeks include 4 medical appointments, and nobody is sick. Because when we look at our kids, we just see our sweet babies, not some other label. And thats why we rock.
3 comments:
Good Morning, Lauren! So sorry to hear about Brooklyn's ST. I know, however, that you're celebrating her triumps in PT! I thought you might enjoy this "poem" I found back in September when our little ordeal first began . . .
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability – to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…
When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip – to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome To Holland”.
“Holland?!?” you say, “What do you mean “Holland”??? I signed up for Italy! I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy”
But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It’s just a different place.
So you must go and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It’s just a different place. It’s slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around…and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills…Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy…and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say “Yes that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned”.
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away…because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.
But…if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things…about Holland.
Gets me misty every time. Take Care!
Love,
Jen
So proud of you and thankful for you. Makes me so happy to see that little girl smiling on loving on everyone... just like she sees her mama do :) Love you.
We are cautiously optimistic. We took him to Johns Hopkins for a second opinion, and we were told the total opposite of Shriners. They used the SAME XRAYS and thought his curve was getting better, not worse. So...we cancelled our next Shriners appt, and we are seeking care at Johns Hopkins. We actually have an appt on Monday! Keep us in your prayers! Otherwise, he's doing great...and...to the naked eye, he looks fabulous (better)! We'll see.
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