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Wow. Thanks for this.

Robin

From: tdhssp <johnvel@...>Subject: ( ) Mother's Lie Date: Saturday, January 17, 2009, 11:24 AM

Mothers LieBy Lori BorgmanExpectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't carewhatsex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.Mothers lieEvery mother wants so much more.She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips,buttonnose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber babyfor beingflat-out ugly.She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those firststepsright 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 fireneurons bythe billions.She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toepointsthat 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'tpronounce, aspine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn'tclose.The doctor's words took your breath away.It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when youdidn't seethe kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months,evenyears later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for acheckup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore thebrunt ofdevastating news.It didn't seem possible.That didn't run in your family.Could this really be happening in your lifetime?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 itwill beunseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery.Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.ly, 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 gatekeeperto ahundred specialists yammering in your ear.I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentionedsouls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionallyquestioned ifGod is on strike.I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-salutingyou,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 themotherhoodline

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 inperspective, so let me do it for you.From where I sit, you're way ahead ofthe pack.You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding ontothedelicacy 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 adisability.You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law.You're a wonder.(Lori Borgman is a syndicated columnist and author of All Stressed Upand No Place To Go)

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Thank you so much for this...... I needed it as I prepare for an IEP meeting next Friday. The first one after our settlement a year ago. I so don't want to be doing this, but I have to.....

I needed this pep talk. I can do this......again.

( ) Mother's Lie

Mothers LieBy Lori BorgmanExpectant mothers waiting for a newborn's arrival say they don't carewhatsex the baby is. They just want to have ten fingers and ten toes.Mothers lieEvery mother wants so much more.She wants a perfectly healthy baby with a round head, rosebud lips,buttonnose, beautiful eyes and satin skin.She wants a baby so gorgeous that people will pity the Gerber babyfor beingflat-out ugly.She wants a baby that will roll over, sit up and take those firststepsright 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 fireneurons bythe billions.She wants a kid that can smack the ball out of the park and do toepointsthat 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'tpronounce, aspine that didn't fuse, a missing chromosome or a palate that didn'tclose.The doctor's words took your breath away.It was just like the time at recess in the fourth grade when youdidn't seethe kick ball coming, and it knocked the wind right out of you.Some of you left the hospital with a healthy bundle, then, months,evenyears later, took him in for a routine visit, or scheduled him for acheckup, and crashed head first into a brick wall as you bore thebrunt ofdevastating news.It didn't seem possible.That didn't run in your family.Could this really be happening in your lifetime?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 itwill beunseen, quietly treated with trips to the doctor, therapy or surgery.Mothers of children with disabilities live the limitations with them.ly, 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 gatekeeperto ahundred specialists yammering in your ear.I wonder how you endure the clichés and the platitudes, the well-intentionedsouls explaining how God is at work when you've occasionallyquestioned ifGod is on strike.I even wonder how you endure schmaltzy columns like this one-salutingyou,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 themotherhoodline 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 inperspective, so let me do it for you.From where I sit, you're way ahead ofthe pack.You've developed the strength of the draft horse while holding ontothedelicacy 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 adisability.You're a neighbor, a friend, a woman I pass at church and my sister-in-law.You're a wonder.(Lori Borgman is a syndicated columnist and author of All Stressed Upand No Place To Go)

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