Celebrating Inchstones: I Am the Disabled Child

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I Am the Disabled Child

I am the child who cannot talk.

You often pity me. I see it in your eyes. You wonder how much I am aware of...I see that as well. I am aware of much...whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or impatient, full of love and desire, or if you are just doing your duty by me. I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express myself nor my needs as you do. You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is at times. I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated. I do not give you answers to your everyday questions, responses over my well-being, sharing my needs, or comments about the world around me. I do not give you rewards as defined by the world's stardards...great strides in development that you can credit yourself. I do not give you understanding as you know it.

What I give you is so much more valuable...I give you instead opportunities. Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine; the depth of your love, your commitment, your patience, your abilities; the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible. I drive you further than you ever go on your own, working harder, seeking answers to your many questions, creating questions with no answers.

I am the child who cannot talk.

I am the child who cannot walk.

The world sometimes seems to pass me by. You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other children. There is much you take for granted. I want the toys on the top shelf. I need to go to the bathroom... oh...I've dropped my spoon again. I am dependent on you in these ways.

My gift to you is to make you aware of your great fortune, your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself. Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them. I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright, to put one foot in front of the other, to be independent. I give you awareness.

I am the child who cannot walk.

I am the child who is mentally impaired.

I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's measuring stick. What I do know is infinite joy in the simple things. I am not burdened as you are with the strifes and conflicts of a more complicated life.

My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child, to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love. I give you the gift of simplicity.

I am the child who is mentally impaired.

I am the disabled child.

I am your teacher. If you allow me, I will teach you what is really important in life.

I will give you and teach you unconditional love.

I give to you my innocent trust, my dependency upon you.

I teach you of respect for others and their uniqueness.

I teach you about the sanctity of life.

I teach you about how very precious this life is and about not taking things for granted.

I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams.

I teach you giving.

Most of all, I teach you hope and faith.

I Am The Disabled Child.

~~Author: Unknown~~

1 comment:

Melodie said...: this one gets the tears flowing every time i read it.. (hugs); April 21, 2011 at 3:18 PM

Post a Comment

Asa's story

Asa is the 4th and youngest in this family. We thought he'd come into this world and our lives would flow right along as it had the other 3 times we brought babies into this world.

We were wrong! After a normal pregnancy and delivery, Asa had to be sent to the NICU because he wasn't sucking, blood sugar dropping, floppy muscles, exaggerated startle reflex and jaundice.

He stayed 5 days were he learned to suck and eat enough to come home. He began nursing well but would scream in pain 30 minutes after each feeding. He had so much mucus and drooled so much. He had a terrible rash on his face. He wasn't making eye contact and was not hitting any milestones.

I kept taking him to the pediatrician but got nowhere until his 2 month checkup when he had only gained one pound since birth. That earned him an appt with a pediatric GI and a change to Neocate formula. Odd gasping spells and eye rolling got him into a pediatric neurologist before the GI appt. The neurologist (he was actually the head of the pediatric neurology dept) personally walked us over to the GI clinic and sat us in an exam room. That kinda makes you worry! That is when we really got the ball rolling. Asa was 3 months old.

At 4 months he was admitted to Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. He stayed 8 days and had a NG tube inserted so we could feed him directly into his stomach. He kept this for 2 months. Also during this time he had an EEG, CT scan, MRI, upper GI endoscopy with biopsy, flex sig, numerous blood tests, a genetics consult, and an ophthalmology consult and many other pokes and prods! So began our relationship with specialist!!

After 2 months on the NG tube, we removed it and tried to get Asa to eat enough to gain weight. He did OK for a little while but by 9 months old, he was fighting each feeding and not gaining weight despite being on Neocate formula at 30cal/oz. The decision was made to have a G-tube put in. The G-tube is a feeding tube that is inserted directly into Asa's belly. He can eat orally but won't so he gets feed into his belly.

Since he was going to have to be sedated for the surgery, it was agreed he should have a muscle biopsy at the same time. By 9 months he had finally began making eye contact. He smiled some but not very social. He was still very hypotonic (floppy) and didn't even have head control. Something was obviously going on with his muscles. All of his brain scans had been normal.

In Nov. 2008, when Asa was 13 months old, we found out the results of the muscle biopsy. Yes, it took 3+ months to get all of the results! He was diagnosed with Mitochondrial Myopathy. He is deficient in Complex IV for all of you medical junkies out there.

What this means is that his cells can't make enough energy to fuel his body....specifically for him, his muscles and GI system, that we know of. If his body has to burn energy to fight off infection, or a stress, then he looses energy in another system. Mito is a progressive disease with no treatment or cure. We try to keep him as healthy and happy as possible. We use the feeding tube to keep him feed so he doesn't have to struggle there. He takes numerous supplements and vitamins in the hope that they will keep him cells healthier. We check his eyes, hearing, heart, kidneys, liver, brain and lots of blood work yearly. Mito can affect any system so it is important to have baseline and watch for changes. He has a GI, neuro, geneticist, optometrist, ophthalmologist, cardiologist, developmental ped, regular ped and a mito specialist.

He gets OT, PT, speech/feeding and a home teacher weekly. He has some sensory issues with touch, sound, taste and texture. This plays into almost all areas of our lives! He is still very hypotonic but gained head control at just over a year (right after we started supplements!). He learned to sit when placed in a sitting position at 18 months. He still can't get into sitting alone. He learned to bottom scoot at just over 2. He does not crawl or walk.

He knows the signs for "moma", "daddy", "more" and "all done". He can show them when prompted but we are still waiting for him to initiate. He waves "bye-bye" and points all the time now. He loves to take a bath and water in general. He has a contagious laugh and can flash the most flirty grin ever!

We learned, with Asa, not take the small things for granted. Each smile, sound, word, bite or even trouble!! You just never know when they might not be so easy to come by or even if you'll have them at all!