I'm a mom of four beautiful, healthy, smart, independent kiddos. My blessings are innumerable. When my eldest was born my life changed. I was no longer priority number one. Heavenly Father gifted us a perfect babe and charged us with her care. As more children joined our family I discovered new aspects of motherhood. I've learned how to multi-task, how to keep children entertained, how to cook, how to hold my tongue, how to love more deeply. I'm not perfect at any of these but I'm no longer the same woman I was 7 yrs ago. And after my latest life lesson I'm a changed woman again.
9.5 weeks ago my entire family enjoyed the warm summer evening. As my hubby bbq grilled our meatloaf for dinner (best way to cook in the summer!) I rested my weary feet and soaked in the beauty of childhood giggles floating through the air. My swollen belly inhabited our second son who would join our family in a few weeks time. My sweeping yard contained my three wild ones racing and swinging. Before I knew it my real life dream was shattered. The sound of a twig snapping as my son fell from the monkey bars broke my spirit. Instantly, I knew his leg was broken. The wails tore through my heart and knotted my insides. The x-ray confirmed it and abruptly our summer came to a close. No more days on the sand jumping waves. No more roller coasters on the boardwalk. No more trips to the playground.
I went through some dark days. The struggles were tangible. Through prayer and patience the sun shone again. My sweet son began to learn new skills. He learned how to get into bed, how to climb on the toilet, how to go up stairs, how to get into a chair and onto the couch. We take our two functioning legs for granted. He rarely cried in frustration, but I still did. He scooted through the house on his bum raising his casted leg in the air. We referred to it as his Tarzan crawl, always on his knuckles. And best of all he learned to operate a wheelchair. I should say he mastered it.
His wheelchair provided us all with welcomed freedom. And this is where my new pair of shoes comes in to the story. For a moment I stepped into the shoes of a mom raising a child with a disability. I've learned these amazing mothers love their children. These moms yearn for their child to be included in the games and fun. Their hearts sing when their child finds freedom and happiness in the world. Their heart aches as their sweet one struggles.
Preschool began and my boy proudly rolled into the classroom. I missed his first day and I fretted about him whilst I snuggled my day old baby in the hospital. He reported that school was awesome and everyone loved his blue cast and his wheelchair. As weeks past he got a green cast. One day while wheeling out of the building he pointed to one of the many school banners on the wall. It is several feet long featuring children of a variety of races and ability levels holding a welcome sign. "Look, Mommy. There's a wheelchair. That says I'm allowed to come here." He beamed. This sign meant acceptance.
Politically correct and all-inclusive posters were so cheesy and over the top. I'd never understood why there needed to be such a variety on every sign papering the hallways until now. My heart leaps every time we pass that welcome sign. My eyes fill with happy tears as I recall the comfort it brought my boy to see a kid like him with his hand on the wheel of his independence. I spent 9weeks glimpsing the life of a mom with a disabled child. And I'm a changed woman. I no longer see healthy children as perfect. I now see all children as perfect.
