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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.

>

>

>

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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.

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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.

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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.

>

>

>

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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.

> >

> >

> >

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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

__________________________________________________

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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

__________________________________________________

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Guest guest

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.

> >

> >

> >

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Guest guest

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

>

> __________________________________________________

>

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Guest guest

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.

> > >

> > >

> > >

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