Guest guest Posted April 22, 2006 Report Share Posted April 22, 2006 Thank you for sharing that. I just cried reading it (and I am the person who always deletes forwarded group e-mails)...I know so many amazing moms. I think I will send this to some. > > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > Carol and > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > written by: Lori Borgman > Columnist and Speaker > > My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she > wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have > given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter whether it's > a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes. > > Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always said. > > Mothers lie. > > Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother wants > a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, > beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous > that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. > > Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. > > Some mothers get babies with something more. > > Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a spine > that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't close > or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the > doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in > the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked > the wind clean out of you. > > Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, > even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a > well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt > of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our > family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? > > I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing > finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous thing. The > athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with nary an ounce > of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs > working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles > through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. > > As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a > third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, there's no > such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, medication > or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have been > minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the > mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do > it. > > ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in > and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track > medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists > yammering in your ear. > > I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, > carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be > warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, intense and > aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a > child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at > the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my > sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and > got something more. You're a wonder. > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 22, 2006 Report Share Posted April 22, 2006 I love it. Thats really touching. now someone just needs to write an essay from the other point of view...the mother telling it herself! Christee Mother of... *Josh~Learning/Speech Delays (9) **Aspen~ Bilateral Metatarsus Adductus (6) ***Dylan~PTSD/Anxiety (4) ****Lilee~A-Typical UCF w/Plantaris ® & Metatarsus Adductus (L) *P/M Brace 16-18/24.Struggling w/pressure sores (8 months) Concidering Dobbs bar & braces --------------------------------- Yahoo! Messenger with Voice. PC-to-Phone calls for ridiculously low rates. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 23, 2006 Report Share Posted April 23, 2006 That is wonderful! Thank you for sharing. I definiately got more than I bargained for, but wouldn't trade him for the world! It has been a rough 17 months, but hopeful soon things will calm down for him! Thanks again for sharing! 11/19/04 Carol Shelton wrote: Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. Carol and Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More written by: Lori Borgman Columnist and Speaker My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter whether it's a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes. Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always said. Mothers lie. Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. Some mothers get babies with something more. Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a spine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't close or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked the wind clean out of you. Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous thing. The athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with nary an ounce of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, there's no such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, medication or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have been minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do it. ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists yammering in your ear. I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, intense and aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and got something more. You're a wonder. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 24, 2006 Report Share Posted April 24, 2006 Carol- Thank you so much for sharing this. I am at 22 weeks with my second pregnancy and it really touched my heart. All I could think of when david was born was the 10 toes and the 10 fingers-surprisingly he only got 9 of each!! I am going to share this essay with another mom I know who got " something more " . We are truly blessed to have our children! Thanks again for sharin, Kathleen mom to bcf fab 12/7 #2 Girl they say edd 9/1/06-straight tootsies so far > > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > Carol and > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > written by: Lori Borgman > Columnist and Speaker > > My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what she > wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer mothers have > given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter whether it's > a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten toes. > > Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always said. > > Mothers lie. > > Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother wants > a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button nose, > beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a baby so gorgeous > that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. > > Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. > > Some mothers get babies with something more. > > Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a spine > that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't close > or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of the walls in the small, suffocating room where the > doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like recess in > the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it knocked > the wind clean out of you. > > Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months, > even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her for a > well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear the brunt > of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our > family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? > > I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of seeing > finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous thing. The > athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with nary an ounce > of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and limbs > working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote bag, rustles > through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. > > As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy after a > third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, there's no > such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, medication > or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have been > minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great admiration the > mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they do > it. > > ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child in > and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, track > medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a hundred specialists > yammering in your ear. > > I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, > carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark mule. You can be > warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, intense and > aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of a > child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I pass at > the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and my > sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, and > got something more. You're a wonder. > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 24, 2006 Report Share Posted April 24, 2006 Thanks! It's been kind of surreal-with number one, i was obsessed with finding info/reading magazines, etc, etc. This pregnancy has been much more low-key, except for the extra visits to a maternal/fetal specialist. Everything looks good so far with this pregnancy, so now its just the wait until she arrives!! Kathleen > > > > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. > I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > > > Carol and > > > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > > written by: Lori Borgman > > Columnist and Speaker > > > > My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what > she > > wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer > mothers have > > given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter > whether it's > > a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten > toes. > > > > Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always > said. > > > > Mothers lie. > > > > Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother > wants > > a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button > nose, > > beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a > baby so gorgeous > > that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. > > > > Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. > > > > Some mothers get babies with something more. > > > > Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a > spine > > that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't > close > > or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember > the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of > the walls in the small, suffocating room where the > > doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like > recess in > > the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it > knocked > > the wind clean out of you. > > > > Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, > months, > > even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her > for a > > well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear > the brunt > > of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our > > family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? > > > > I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of > seeing > > finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous > thing. The > > athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with > nary an ounce > > of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and > limbs > > working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote > bag, rustles > > through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. > > > > As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy > after a > > third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, > there's no > > such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, > medication > > or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have > been > > minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great > admiration the > > mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they > do > > it. > > > > ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child > in > > and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, > track > > medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a > hundred specialists > > yammering in your ear. > > > > I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, > > carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark > mule. You can be > > warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, > intense and > > aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of > a > > child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I > pass at > > the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and > my > > sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, > and > > got something more. You're a wonder. > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 25, 2006 Report Share Posted April 25, 2006 I was just able to sit down and read this. Thanks for posting it, Carol! Joy --- Carol Shelton wrote: > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. I'm a sucker > for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > Carol and > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > written by: Lori Borgman > Columnist and Speaker Rose (1-99) http://www.geocities.com/joybelle15/rosesclubfootpage.html Iris (2-01) Spencer (3-03) Grant (9-05) http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/grantphilip __________________________________________________ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 25, 2006 Report Share Posted April 25, 2006 Kathleen!! Congratulations on baby #2. How exciting!! I remember after Rose was born, Neil's grandma saying " 10 fingers and 10 toes, how wonderful! " I'd been having some mixed feelings about her foot, and when grandma said that I realized how true it was. She was perfect just the way she was. I've gotten a chance to learn that lesson again. There's this vision, this expectation, what that baby is going to be like during pregnancy. When it changes, there's a shift, a struggle, a realization,a letting go, and then an acceptance. Sometimes it takes awhile, sometimes it just happens, and sometimes it takes willpower. I think with all children, regardless of disability or not, each parent has point where they have to accept that child for who he/she is, not what they dreamed he/she might be. Anyway, I went off on a different point than I planned. Congrats again! Joy --- leenernd wrote: > Carol- > Thank you so much for sharing this. I am at 22 weeks with my second > pregnancy and it really touched my heart. All I could think of when > david was born was the 10 toes and the 10 fingers-surprisingly he > only got 9 of each!! I am going to share this essay with another mom > I know who got " something more " . We are truly blessed to have our > children! Rose (1-99) http://www.geocities.com/joybelle15/rosesclubfootpage.html Iris (2-01) Spencer (3-03) Grant (9-05) http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/grantphilip __________________________________________________ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 25, 2006 Report Share Posted April 25, 2006 Hey Kathleen, Congratulations, I didn't know you were expecting again. Will be thinking of you and #2 (a girl? Yay!). > > > > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. > I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > > > Carol and > > > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > > written by: Lori Borgman > > Columnist and Speaker > > > > My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what > she > > wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer > mothers have > > given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter > whether it's > > a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten > toes. > > > > Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always > said. > > > > Mothers lie. > > > > Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother > wants > > a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button > nose, > > beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a > baby so gorgeous > > that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. > > > > Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. > > > > Some mothers get babies with something more. > > > > Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a > spine > > that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't > close > > or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember > the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of > the walls in the small, suffocating room where the > > doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like > recess in > > the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it > knocked > > the wind clean out of you. > > > > Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, > months, > > even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her > for a > > well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear > the brunt > > of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our > > family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? > > > > I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of > seeing > > finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous > thing. The > > athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with > nary an ounce > > of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and > limbs > > working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote > bag, rustles > > through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. > > > > As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy > after a > > third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, > there's no > > such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, > medication > > or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have > been > > minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great > admiration the > > mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they > do > > it. > > > > ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child > in > > and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, > track > > medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a > hundred specialists > > yammering in your ear. > > > > I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, > > carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark > mule. You can be > > warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, > intense and > > aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of > a > > child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I > pass at > > the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and > my > > sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, > and > > got something more. You're a wonder. > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 26, 2006 Report Share Posted April 26, 2006 Thanks Joy! We are very excited about baby number 2 and the good news we have heard so far. Take care, kathleen mom to david bcf fab 12/7 and future daughter edd 9/4/06 > > > Carol- > > Thank you so much for sharing this. I am at 22 weeks with my second > > pregnancy and it really touched my heart. All I could think of when > > david was born was the 10 toes and the 10 fingers-surprisingly he > > only got 9 of each!! I am going to share this essay with another mom > > I know who got " something more " . We are truly blessed to have our > > children! > > > Rose (1-99) http://www.geocities.com/joybelle15/rosesclubfootpage.html > Iris (2-01) > Spencer (3-03) > Grant (9-05) http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/grantphilip > > __________________________________________________ > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 26, 2006 Report Share Posted April 26, 2006 Thanks Alison- We are way psyched-plus 1 boy, 1 girl-couldn't have planned it any better myself With david, I shouted from the rooftops about being pregnant-this pregancy, I have let my belly do the talking-right now I look like I swallowed a watermelon and I am only 21 weeks along- ugh! Thanks again, kathleen mom to david bcf fab 12/7 and daughter to be edd 9/4/06 > > > > > > Just wanted to share this with all my clubfoot parent friends. > > I'm a sucker for these things. I added the lines in bold. > > > > > > Carol and > > > > > > Some Mothers Get Babies With Something More > > > written by: Lori Borgman > > > Columnist and Speaker > > > > > > My friend is expecting her first child. People keep asking what > > she > > > wants. She smiles demurely, shakes her head and gives the answer > > mothers have > > > given throughout the pages of time. She says it doesn't matter > > whether it's > > > a boy or a girl. She just wants it to have ten fingers and ten > > toes. > > > > > > Of course, that's what she says. That's what mothers have always > > said. > > > > > > Mothers lie. > > > > > > Truth be told, every mother wants a whole lot more. Every mother > > wants > > > a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips, button > > nose, > > > beautiful eyes, satin skin and straight feet. Every mother wants a > > baby so gorgeous > > > that people will pity the Gerber baby for being flat-out ugly. > > > > > > Every mother 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 we mothers want what we want. > > > > > > Some mothers get babies with something more. > > > > > > Some mothers get babies with conditions they can't pronounce, a > > spine > > > that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome, a palette that didn't > > close > > > or a tiny crooked foot or two. Most of those mothers can remember > > the time, the place, the shoes they were wearing and the color of > > the walls in the small, suffocating room where the > > > doctor uttered the words that took their breath away. It felt like > > recess in > > > the fourth grade when you didn't see the kick ball coming and it > > knocked > > > the wind clean out of you. > > > > > > Some mothers leave the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, > > months, > > > even years later, take him in for a routine visit, or schedule her > > for a > > > well check, and crash head first into a brick wall as they bear > > the brunt > > > of devastating news. It can't be possible! That doesn't run in our > > > family. Can this really be happening in our lifetime? > > > > > > I am a woman who watches the Olympics for the sheer thrill of > > seeing > > > finely sculpted bodies. It's not a lust thing; it's a wondrous > > thing. The > > > athletes appear as specimens without flaw - rippling muscles with > > nary an ounce > > > of flab or fat, virtual powerhouses of strength with lungs and > > limbs > > > working in perfect harmony. Then the athlete walks over to a tote > > bag, rustles > > > through the contents and pulls out an inhaler. > > > > > > As I've told my own kids, be it on the way to physical therapy > > after a > > > third knee surgery, or on a trip home from an echo cardiogram, > > there's no > > > such thing as a perfect body. Every body 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, > > medication > > > or surgery. The health problems our children have experienced have > > been > > > minimal and manageable, so I watch with keen interest and great > > admiration the > > > mothers of children with serious disabilities, and wonder how they > > do > > > it. > > > > > > ly, sometimes you mothers scare me. How you lift that child > > in > > > and out of a wheelchair 20 times a day. How you monitor tests, > > track > > > medications, regulate diet and serve as the gatekeeper to a > > hundred specialists > > > yammering in your ear. > > > > > > I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, 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 pieces 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, please, 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, > > > carefully counter-balanced against the stubbornness of an Ozark > > mule. You can be > > > warm and tender one minute, and when circumstances require, > > intense and > > > aggressive the next. You are the mother, advocate and protector of > > a > > > child with a disability. You're a neighbor, a friend, a stranger I > > pass at > > > the mall. You're the woman I sit next to at church, my cousin and > > my > > > sister-in-law. You're a woman who wanted ten fingers and ten toes, > > and > > > got something more. You're a wonder. > > > > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.