Friday, September 21, 2012
On the bed this morning, I glanced over at the closet door mirror and saw my foot sitting on the floor. I had a jolt: when it was time for me to get up my foot would know exactly what to do along with the rest of my body in order for me to start walking. First & foremost, my brain would tell it how to do it and when. I am a lucky human being, not that I realize it near often enough, and then I wished I wasn't so lucky. As a matter of fact I sat there staring in the mirror at my foot feeling downright guilty, because down the hall in a crib was the adorable child that does not have the part of her brain to tell her foot how to move when she is done folding laundry. Her foot will have to be taught how to do such stuff. Now how do you sit and be thankful for yourself and sad for your child at the same time? And then she woke up, and all of my "feelings" vanished, because there she was smiling, delighted to be alive, and even more delighted that I was there. She has taught us more in her short life than you can imagine. While society tags her "handicapped" she is one of the happiest people alive. In her mind she is not handicapped, she is loved and to her that is all that matters. Now someday she may start realizing it, but I hope that by then we will have instilled in her her own confidence to face the world, not as being afflicted, but as being affected & able to overcome what she has been handed. Our goal in life is to have the happiest child with C.P. that has ever walked the face of the earth. . . & judging by the perpetual grin on her face I am quite certain she may reach the goal. After all, a handicapp is just that, a handicapp. A terrifying thought running circles in your brain can handicapp a person. Much like so many things. I was scared that I might someday have a child that had problems of some sort, but today I am thankful. Plus, the beautiful part of the story is that one day she will have a brand new feet, and she will be able to run through the meadows with her sister.