I love this. This topic has especially been on my mind while enlisting the help of the new kidz krew. I know you will love it, so enjoy!....
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Many of you I have never even met face to face, but I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you on the internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores.
I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be. Your words ring experience, experience you culled with your very heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond the expectations of this world. You are my "sisters."
Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority. A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any other sorority, we were chosen to be members. Some of us were invited to join immediately, some not for months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse membership, but to no avail.
We were initiated in neurologist's offices and NICU units, in obstetrician's offices, in emergency rooms, and during ultrasounds.
We were initiated with somber telephone calls, consultations, evaluations, blood tests, x-rays, MRI films, and heart surgeries.
All of us have one thing in common. One day things were fine. We were pregnant, or we had just given birth, or we were nursing our newborn, or we were playing with our toddler. Yes, one minute everything was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or months, our entire lives changed.
Something wasn't quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of children with special needs.
We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity of our children's special needs.Some of our children ungergo chemotherapy.Some need respirators and ventilators. Some are unable to talk, some are unable to walk. Some eat through feeding tubes. Some live in a different world.
We do not discriminate against those mothers whose children's needs are not as "special" as our child's. We have mutual respect and empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes. We are knowledgeable. We have educated ourselves with whatever materials we could find. We know "the" specialists in the field. Weknow "the" neurologists, "the" hospitals, "the" wonder drugs, "the" treatments. We know "the" tests that need to be done, we know "the" degenerative and progressive diseases and we hold our breath while our children are tested for them.
Without formal education, we could become board certified in neurology, endocrinology, and physiatry. We have taken on our insurance companies and school boards to get what our children need to survive, and to flourish.
We have prevailed upon the State to include augmentative communication devices in special education classes and mainstream schools for our children with cerebral palsy.
We have labored to prove to insurance companies the medical necessity of gait trainers and other adaptive equipment for our children with spinal cord defects. We have sued municipalities to have our children properly classified so they could receive education and evaluation commensurate with their diagnosis.
We have learned to deal with the rest of the world, even if that means walking away from it. We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during "tantrums" and gritted our teeth while discipline was advocated by the person behind us on line.
We have tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from well-meaning strangers. We have tolerated mothers of children without special needs complaining about chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that many of our closest friends can't understand what it's like to be in our sorority, and don't even want to try.
We have our own personal copies of Emily Perl Kingsley's "A Trip To Holland" and Erma Bombeck's "The Special Mother." We keep them by our bedside and read and reread them during our toughest hours.
We have coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our physically handicapped children to the neighbors' front doors on Halloween, and we have found ways to help our deaf children form the words, "trick or treat." We have accepted that our children with sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on Christmas. We have painted a canvas of lights and a blazing yule log with our words for our blind children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And all the while, we have tried to create a festive atmosphere for the rest of our family.
We've gotten up every morning since our journey began wondering how we'd make it through another day, and gone to bed every evening not sure how we did it.
We've mourned the fact that we never got to relax and sip red wine in Italy. We've mourned the fact that our trip to Holland has required much more baggage than we ever imagined when we first visited the travel agent. And we've mourned because we left for the airport without most of the things we needed for the trip.
But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never stop believing.
Our love for our special children and our belief in all that they will achieve in life knows no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and extra points and home runs. We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at the grace of their pirouettes.
We never, never stop believing in all they will accomplish as they pass through this world.
But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands as together, we special mothers and our special children, reach for the stars.
By Maureen K. Higgins
As a grandmother, I think a lot of my concerns about Hailey are valid...I worry about, who will take care of her when her parents are no longer here or able to, I worry about her being bullied because she is a perfect target for bullies, being non verbal and “different” than the rest of the kids, I worry about people taking advantage of her, I worry about how much she does or doesn’t eat, I worry about her quality of life being compromised and not being financially able to get her whatever it is that she needs, I worry about most of the things that every other parent/grandparent worries about, but am I being silly when I worry about her having and making friends that will be there for and with her through thick and thin?
TRUE friendship is really hard to come by, and quite honestly if you have a few friends that you are really tight with, friends that have been with you for decades, then i think you should consider yourself blessed. I am very fortunate to have a couple of friends that I have known throughout the years, friends that I know that I can rely on no matter what, friends that I can call on and they too can call on me, and we would drop everything and anything for each other. I have a friend that I met in highschool and even though we are now miles apart (Chrissy) and don’t see each other as often as we should, when we get together it is as if we can still pick up where we left off. that is a friendship that everyone should have. I also have a unique friendship, my lifelong (and I mean all of my 46 years) friend Brenda. Brenda and I have seen each other through good times, and bad times, through births, weddings, funerals and sicknesses, we know each others deepest secrets, we know what’s wrong with each other, without having to say a word. This is a friendship that I do not take for granted, that I know that I am lucky to have. Take a secret inventory of your friends and see how many are this genuine. I am TRULY BLESSED to have Brenda in my life and I know it, I think we have a very rare kind of friendship. I thank God everyday that she is in my life!
Hailey is only 5 years old, I’m sure she has plenty of time to make friends, but I worry. After all, how much time does she have to socialize, she has so many weekly therapies, countless medical appointments, feeding issues that make it much harder and longer for her to eat. etc. etc. Not to mention the lack of understanding of her disability that scares so many people away. Despite her beautiful and contagious smile, and charming personality, I think other parents are afraid to invite her over for a playdate Afraid that they won’t know how to take care of her. Keep in mind a play date doesn’t t always have to be a drop-off situation. A playdate can be two moms at the park with all of their children, or moms catching up and getting to know one another over tea while their children are playing together in another room. A play date can be as beneficial for
a typically developing child as it is for a child who has a disability. It is imperative that children learn at a very young age that they are all equal despite the different challenges they face.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again, “Hailey loves all the same things that another 5 year old child loves” She loves, to play, she just can’t run around, she loves to sing, you just can’t hear her voice, she loves to dance, she just needs a little help, she loves to blow bubbles, but she can’t blow, she can try effortlessly to catch them, and they inevidebly break, just like they break when any other 5 year old tries to catch them. One of her greatest needs is to be understood. If you can look past her disability and look right into her soul you would have a wonderful and fulfilling friendship! I saw this music wall on another blog
I know Hailey would love it, I’m not sure that she can do it from this angle, she spends most of her time trolling around on the ground, (really got to get some knee pads to fit her) but maybe I can adjust it a bit, maybe hang all of this cool stuff on the back of a hollow door and bring it outside on the grass when she comes over to visit in the summer time, I think I will paint some of my utensils bright colors! I bet Brody will soon be able to play with it too.
“To understand me is about taking the time to get to know me” copyright @-Janet Harrold
