It's all about the love, baby

Been reading blogs by moms with special needs kids. I have something to say to those moms. Your children are perfection. All kids have special needs, some more than others. My Jack is 11 and dysfluent (he stutters). He's got so much to say, and sometimes just can't get it out. Ty, on the other hand, didn't speak until he was almost 3. He's now 8. He has to carry the entire contents of his desk back and forth in his backpack, otherwise he's sure to forget the ONE book he needs for homework. Ty jumps up and down and flaps his hands when he's excited about something. Jumps and flaps incessantly. Most of the time, he's on another planet. Mia is 7, and probably on the bipolar spectrum. I'm scared for her, for the struggles I expect her to face during adolescence and adulthood. But you know what? They're all really smart. Jack is cool, wise, thoughtful, and funny as hell. Ty does that jumping thing when he's stoked about his cello. Last October, he asked to play the violin ice picks in my temple...how 'bout the cello, honey, everyone plays the violin... so now it's 8 months later and he loves his cello. It's never in the case because he's always playing it. He would sleep with that thing in his bed if he could. And he's really good. Like weirdly good. Mia is so creative, so artistic. Think van Gogh, think Kahlo, think Abu.

The thing is, we underestimate what a child is capable of. Years ago, I cared for kids, little kids, infants, who spent every day of their lives in pain. Legs shrunken and weak from neuropathy, lungs scarred by pneumonia, bodies and brains not able to grow from wasting syndrome. All from that nasty-ass virus sadly passed from infected mama to baby. I was privileged to be the one to whisper in their ears, kiss their foreheads, and hold their hands when they were dying, 'cause their people were either in prison, on the street, or already dead. Or maybe just too broken themselves to care. Sometimes it was a few days, sometimes months, some even years.

But you know what else I saw. I saw these kids thrive in a way that defied their prognosis. I saw them learn and sing and walk and smile and play. I saw them live way longer than expected. Because they were loved. We loved them and nurtured them and laughed with them. We held them and hugged them and said "no" to them. We cheered them on every single day. We were a family. Each and every one was a miracle. They were brave and strong. And I saw them not be afraid, even at the end.

We are born knowing. I bet you've looked deep into your infant's eyes, and she's looked right back at you with wisdom and awareness... old...i must be seeing things... It's not your imagination. When your babies are looking at something, and nothing's there, they're looking at heaven. When they smile in their sleep, they're smiling at angels. When they're cooing and babbling alone in their cribs in the wee hours, they're talking to GOD. And God spelled backwards is LOVE. Love heals all things. Love moves FUCKING MOUNTAINS.

So you mamas and papas out there with special needs children, do not be afraid. Celebrate your babies, believe in your babies, love your babies summpin FIERCE. And you will see. They'll surpass all expectations. They are miracles. They will be strong. And loving. And you will look in their eyes and see absolute perfection.