We’ve witnessed our share over here. My still being online falls under this heading.Â It took me a minute to accept this last miracle offered, but I’m glad I did.
Because I agree, The face of our Brave Hero does brighten many people’s day.
We are taking Parker for an Echo and EKG today.
These appointments tend to stress me out.
Prayers forÂ successful and reassuring outcomes would be appreciated.
We wouldn’t need the donation button on this blog, if IÂ had a dollar for every person who has looked me in the eye and said one (or a variant of one) of the following:
“I don’t know how you do it.Â I know I couldn’t.Â You’ve given up your entire life for this child.Â I just don’t think I could do that.”
“God only sends kids like Parker to parents He knows can handle it.”
“I could never have your patience.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I stand up in church, or write on Facebook or on this blog about how much of a gift Parker is,
at how we often feel sorry for those who don’t get the opportunity of parenting a kid like Parker,
or how grateful we are that Parker was willing to take the chance on US being his parents,
there are still those out there that still aren’t listening.
No, it isn’t all unicorns and rainbows.Â Pulmonary Hypertension sucks.Â Those who hold to their right of free speech to use the word ‘retard’ as their go-to ‘derogatory’ adjective supremely suck.
Let’sÂ face it, there will always be those who can’t see past the extra chromosome, or the trach, or the not quite typical of it all.
But I consider that to be their issues, not mine.
(Okay, most of the time.Â You can’t always take ALL of the Mother Bear out of a special needs Mama, you know?)
Last week when we were waiting in the Pedi’s office, Parker took up his usual spot in front of the gigantic aquarium to scope out all the great going ons within.
Several kids came to peek into the glass enclosed world along with the Brave Hero.
As they spotted ParkerÂ I could tell they were trying to figure out the trach.Â Put a name to the oxygen cord.Â Figure outÂ why Parker didn’t respond when they asked his name.
I explained about the trach, and how while Parker doesn’t use his voice to communicate, he does use his hands.
Suddenly I had a Supah Star on my hands.Â Cause, really, how many kids do YOU know that talk with their hands?
I taught the kids how to sign ‘fish’, ‘water’, and most importantly ‘friend.’
I rememberÂ helping my oldest daughter make it through the minefields that friendships can often be.Â It really isn’t so different than what I was doing with Parker in the doctor’s office.Â Sometimes a kid needs a bridge, something in common to share with another.
My point being that raising a kid with special needs isn’t totally different from raising a typical kid.
Dealing with an extra chromosome often isn’t much harder than trying to get my two other sons to brush their teeth or change their underwear on semi-reasonable schedule.
Oh, there are the hospital stays and the financial stuff.
But these are things that could also happen to any kid.
And while I have spent a lot of time worrying about how long Parker will be with us there really isn’t aren’t any promises that any of us will live long lives.
I will concede that I never had to pack so many bags or lift a zillion pound stroller into the car each time I took my other 5 year olds places.
Then again, I’m pretty sure I won’t have to worry about Parker sloughing the major part of his senior year of high school either.
It all comes out in the wash.
Unless it is goats milk mixed with beets and olive oil.Â THAT, my friend, is there to stay.
So, I’m challenging you to do something daring.
Something many parents have never done before.
Take a moment and look at my family, and see them as being more like your family than different.
(But don’t look too closely at the vast mountain of laundry waiting to be sorted and done, k?)