By Tammy Kleinman. We laugh at the futile, everyday struggle.
A mom with a child with Down syndrome learns the importance of talking to kids about kindness.
A NICU mom discovers just how important her voice could be.
When I was nine, I found my baby sister dead in her crib. I knew something was wrong right away. She looked like, just a body. Life had left her. …
Having spent so long raising one child with autism, the shock of typical development in my younger children was something this family was not prepared for.
Our family life is much like anyone’s with young children. We laugh, we play, we eat together when we can, we sometimes go places that aren’t medical or therapy related and we struggle with sleep. Sure, we are pretty busy with appointments and there are plenty of times of stress and worry too. Compared to our life before a child with special needs, those ups and downs do tend to be more dramatic, but that’s to be expected….we are on a different ride now.
I’ve always given quite a bit of thought to Gia’s future. Over the last two and a half years I’ve wondered whether she would survive, eat, walk, talk or live independently. I’ve questioned whether she would recognize her parents, laugh with her sister, make jokes or express emotion. I’ve managed to put some of these thoughts to rest, simply because they are no longer a mystery, and I’ve also learned that excessive worrying about future events does no good. Alas, sometimes I am undeterred by that that obvious fact.
After each of my girls was born, I was given plenty of advice. Some of the advice was really helpful. Some of it, although well intentioned, was not so useful for our particular situation. This was more so the case when Gia was born especially since I was sorting through so many of my own confusing emotions at the time.
Like many of you, this season I reflect and give thanks to all that we have. I have much to be thankful for, in fact, if I made a list …
I’ve been bracing myself for this since Gia was born. The n-word brings tears to this mom’s eyes, sadness to my heart, and a kick to my stomach. However, it’s actually a word I hope that Gia may one day sing from mountain-tops.
My n-word is non-verbal.