The two have been popping up in my mind this week...Since reading Elizabeth McCracken's recent memoir, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, I've relived both my pregnancies over and over. Only the first went to term. Cole. Both seemed normal, yet both had their individual traumatic outcomes. Elizabeth's memoir chronicles her two pregnancies, her first, heartbreaking, stillborn, and second, joyful, a healthy boy. I felt a kinship to her experience because I've found that atypical births are uncomfortable and untouchable for most people. You find yourself in another part of the hospital, away from the mothers who have healthy babies. Understandably, in my head, yet not in my heart, no one knows what to say to you or how to approach you. Your path will be different.
Raising Cole has been a day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute learning experience. His development doesn't resemble the milestones outlined in parenting guides. Along with playdates and outings, his days, from eight weeks old to present, include things like physical therapy, occupational therapy, feeding therapy. His daily routine includes stretching and powerful medications. Things like chosing a book to read or selecting a toy or game to play with often take countless guesses and I'm fairly certain don't always end up with the correct guess. He's just patient and relents with the next best. He handles his life with grace. There's a sort of inate acceptance of his condition and of his limits that allows him to move beyond them and to continually surprise with new actions, interests, words, abilities. He amazes me every day.
The other thing that provoked my thoughts of motherhood was Jenny McCarthy guesting on Oprah a few days ago, talking about Warrior Mothers. I know many, not just mothers, but fathers too. And not only parents of children with needs. Inspiring moms and dads who continually show their children respect, interest and guidance with the perfect blend of love, authority and understanding. Some of the battles are different for parents with children who have special needs. We find ourselves becoming verse with medical terms, with education law, and we develop an unspoken kinship with other families who brave the same. Before having Cole, I had never heard of an IEP. I was unaware of the various schools of therapy. I didn't know what an AAC (Augmentative & Assistive Communication) device was. Now I'm learning to program and personalize one...and Cole is learning to better communicate with it.
His life opened mine up in ways I could not have imagined. But when I remember, relive, his birth, I still find the emotions fresh and tangible. When, after a couple of extremely uncertain days, one of the doctors actually said "tomorrow" in reference to a test that they'd run, and I thought, "there will be a tomorrow?", I finally breathed. And continue to do so daily!
