The Apple of Our Eye

Today's suggested topic is special babies go to special people.  Yes, I am going out of order.  But I plan to get to all the questions and suggestions.  If you have any that haven't been posted, leave them here in the comments or post them on my FaceBook.

When you have a child with a disability, you hear that "special babies, special people" line all the time. It changes slightly. "Well, you know, God only sends these special babies to special people."  "A special child for a special family."  "He couldn't have gone to a better family."  "You were chosen to be his parents because God knows you can handle it."

They are all bullshit.

RK Red.  Rapper, published author, fabulous big sister, and my greatest challenge

I don't think God hand selects our trials and tribulations.  I don't think he's sitting on a royal throne tossing disabilities onto children and matching them up the parents who will best care for them.  If that was the case, we wouldn't have children who are abused and neglected.  We wouldn't have orphanages in Eastern Europe filled with abandoned, starving children with Down syndrome.

No, disabilities are just part of nature.  It's a variation of normal.  Like tie-dye roses, the platypus, gay Republicans. There is not rhyme or reason for their existence.  No more or less so than the rest of us, anyway.  It is just variation.  Without variation, we'd all be little boxes, made of ticky tacky, little boxes all the same.

Mike and I are no more equipped than anyone else to handle Kelly and his needs.  In fact, in many ways, we are far less equipped.  Our personalities don't really jive with the whole special needs gig.  We aren't the kind of folks who volunteer at Special Olympics.  We don't do special ed.  We're not particularly patient or selfless.  We hate appointments of any kind.  We don't have money to save for his future.  We laugh our asses off at Something About Mary.  So, yeah, this whole Down syndrome just isn't our thing.

But Kelly is.  He's our son and we do what we have to do for our children.  So would you.  We are no different.

When I was pregnant with Kelly, many of our close friends and family assured us that there was no way Kelly would be born with Down syndrome despite the increased odds we were given.  I believed them.  I kept thinking that we had been through so much in the years prior to his birth, that surely God would be merciful and spare us a child with a disability.



We certainly were tapped out with the children we already had.  Our oldest was posing enough of a challenge.  There was no way God would put more on our plate.

Yet, that's exactly what happened.

I guess, people search for meaning in something like that and that's when the whole special kids/special parents thing comes out of their mouths.  If it were true, it'd make sense.

The truth is that I make mistakes with Kelly just as much as I make them with my other children.  I yell at him when I lose my temper. I feed him junk food to keep him quiet during mass.  I have blown off trying to find him therapies because I hate all the appointments.

Somehow, though, despite all my failings, he's thriving.  Just like his siblings.

Just normal, everyday parenting.

What surprises me is that there aren't more people willing to give it a try, this "special needs" parenting. There are so many people out there with the resources, so many people with the empty space in their hearts, so many people with a special needs child in their womb, who only have their hearts set on a perfect baby.

 But there aren't any perfect babies.  There aren't any perfect parents.  There are just people.  Varying shapes and sizes, rainbows of colors, with abilities and disabilities of so many types we cannot even grasp the possibilities.

As you can tell, we went apple picking today.  My kids are all about picking the perfect apple.  They search around for shiny red ones without blemishes or dimples.  A tiny black spot is cause for rejection.  A warty apple could elicit shrieks of horror.

But I'm an older, more experienced apple picker.

I find that the prettiest apples many times aren't all that sweet.  But if you can gather the courage it takes to bite into an gnarly looking apple, you may get a mouthful of the sweetest, juiciest apple you've ever had.

Or, you may just have a normal tasting, ugly ass apple.

At least it's interesting.