Twenty three years ago, my middle child, Garrett, was born. Doctors and genetic experts that advised us recommended that the pregnancy be terminated. This was due to medicinal-, treatment-, and chemical- exposure I had in the early stages of the pregnancy following a terrible head-on car crash. I was trapped in the car as it burned, escaping narrowly. Unaware that I was pregnant, I received treatments that were not compatible with having a normal child.
Having taught the handicapped for ten years in my early university post-grad years, I determined that I would be a pretty darned good mommy for a messed up little kidlette. And I was terrified for nine months. When he was born, it was by Caesarean section. He was wedged into my pelvis so firmly that a one sided forcep was used to 'scoop' his head from under my right hip. When I heard the doc ask for a forcep, I said 'No! No forceps!' I was reassured. When he was bundled and shown to me, his little ear was folded under into a strange lump. 'Oh, God, his ear! George, his ear!' I was reassured that it would plump up normally in a few minutes. Man, I was looking for signs of imperfection.
What I got was my Garrett, my son, my sweet boy. Perfect and whole and strong.
A message to him, who I was willing to accept in any form, but am grateful for the form you came in:
Happy birthday, my son! You are a dream, a gift, a magic being who represents that faith and belief and knowledge can be rewarded with perfection! For nine months, we walked a precarious path, you and I, but look what it led us to: a wonderful, strong, loving YOU! Thank you for treasuring the gift. (oh, except for that holding the shark thing..)
Love, Momma
Twenty three years ago, my middle child, Garrett, was born. Doctors and genetic experts that advised us recommended that the pregnancy be terminated. This was due to medicinal-, treatment-, and chemical- exposure I had in the early stages of the pregnancy following a terrible head-on car crash. I was trapped in the car as it burned, escaping narrowly. Unaware that I was pregnant, I received treatments that were not compatible with having a normal child.
Having taught the handicapped for ten years in my early university post-grad years, I determined that I would be a pretty darned good mommy for a messed up little kidlette. And I was terrified for nine months. When he was born, it was by Caesarean section. He was wedged into my pelvis so firmly that a one sided forcep was used to 'scoop' his head from under my right hip. When I heard the doc ask for a forcep, I said 'No! No forceps!' I was reassured. When he was bundled and shown to me, his little ear was folded under into a strange lump. 'Oh, God, his ear! George, his ear!' I was reassured that it would plump up normally in a few minutes. Man, I was looking for signs of imperfection.
What I got was my Garrett, my son, my sweet boy. Perfect and whole and strong.
A message to him, who I was willing to accept in any form, but am grateful for the form you came in:
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