God Chooses Mums For
Special Babies.
Most women become mothers
by accident, some by choice, a few by social
pressures and a couple by habit. This year,
nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of heart
children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of
heart children are chosen?
Somehow I visualize
God hovering over earth selecting His instruments
for propagation with great care and deliberation.
As He observes, He instructs his angels to make
notes in a giant ledger. "Armstrong, beth,
son. Patron saint, Matthew. Forrest, Marjorie,
daughter, patron saint, Cecilia. Rudledge,
Carrie, twins, patron saint...give her Gerard.
He's used to profanity."
Finally, He passes
a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a
heart child." The angel is curious.
"Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I
give a heart child to a mother who does not know
laughter? That would be cruel." "But
has she patience?" asks the angel. "I
don't want her to have too much patience or she
will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair.
Once the shock and resentment wear off, she'll
handle it. I watched her today. She has that
feeling of self and independence that is so rare
and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child
I'm going to give her has her own world and
that's not going to be easy." "But
Lord, I don't think she even believes in
you." God smiles, "No matter. I can fix
that. This one is perfect. She has just enough
selfishness." The angel gasps,
"Selfishness? Is that a virtue?" God
nods, "If she can't separate herself from
the child occasionally, she'll never survive.
Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a
child less than perfect. She doesn't
realize it
yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take
for granted a 'spoken word.' She will never
consider a 'step' ordinary. When her child says
'Mummy' for the first time, she will be present
at a miracle and know it! When she describes a
tree or a sunset to her child, she will see it as
few people ever see my creations. "I will
permit her to see clearly the things I
see...ignorance, cruelty, prejudice...and allow
her to rise above them. She will never be alone.
I will be at her side every minute of every day
of her life because she is doing my work as
surely as she is here by my side."
"And what
about her patron saint?" Asks the angel, his
pen poised in midair. God smiles, "a mirror
will suffice."
By Erma Bombeck-syndicated columnist
What does it mean to
be the parent of a child with a heart defect?
What does it mean to be the
parent of a child with a heart defect?
It means going into your
baby's room a dozen times a night just to check
and see if she is breathing.
It means standing over the crib and watching for
the chest to rise and fall and when you don't see
it move you begin to panic and put your head down
close to the baby's face to try to hear her
breathe.
It means that when you don't see the chest move
and you don't hear the breathing (because your
own heart's beating is drowning out any other
sound in the room) you put your finger under the
baby's nose to feel the warm air on your finger -
until you wake the baby and she stirs - and
you're thankful so thankful that she's still with
you.
It means waking up with a start every morning,
jumping out of bed and running to your baby's
room wondering why she isn't crying yet? It means
feeling a huge sense of relief when she hears you
and opens her eyes and smiles, It means saying a
prayer of thanks for another day.
It means measuring out her medication and
panicking if she spits some of it out, How much
did she spit out anyway? 1ml? 2 or 3? And
wondering if you should guesstimate how much more
she should have and worrying about
overmedicating.
It means checking her nailbeds against your own
to determine how blue she is today, It means
asking your husband, your mother, your friend,
"Do her lips look blue to you?"
It means keeping a heater going all winter in her
room for fear she wont be warm enough. It means
worrying that even a sniffle could cause an
infection that would harm the heart. It means
taking your baby to the doctor and then worrying
that the baby will get something even worse from
being in the waiting room.
It means knowing that
everyday is a blessing and a gift, it means
knowing that you are the luckiest person in the
world just to be a parent, It means cherishing
every moment, every breath with such an intensity
that you feel tears come to your eyes for no
apparent reason.
It means hoping for a miracle to save your baby's
life. It means hoping that your marriage is
strong enough to endure the hospitalizations,
separations, and the grief.
It means your own heart
knows a pain no parent should know.
It means feeling weak and
helpless and angry and depressed because your
child's fate is out of your hands, It means
feeling strong and determined and brave because
you know you have to be.
It means your love knows new
unlimited boundaries, it means your pride in your
child's accomplishments is unparalleled, It means
your pain has taught you a deeper sense of
compassion and understanding than you ever
imagined.
It means we are united by
the same feelings, it means that we all know the
mixed up emotions of living with death-but more
importantly of living with Life. It means that
even though we are strangers … we are more
to each other than friends could ever be.
By Anna Marie Jaworski (1996)
Welcome to Holland
A story about what it's
like to have a child with a disability/defect,
for those who haven't experienced it, it may open
your eyes. For those of you who have, it may give
you some perspective.
"I am often asked to
describe the experience of raising a child with a
disability-to try to help people who have not
shared that unique experience, to understand it,
to imagine how it would feel.
It's like this… When
you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a
fabulous vacation to Italy. You buy a bunch of
guidebooks and make wonderful plans. The
Coliseum, Micelangelo's David, the gondola's in
Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in
Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager
anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later,
the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and
says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you
mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed
to go to Italy." But there has been a change
in the flight plan. They have landed in Holland
and there you must stay.
The important thing is
that they haven't taken you to a horrible,
disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence,
famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And
you must learn a whole new language. And you will
meet a new group of people you never knew
existed. It's just a different place.
It's slower-paced than
Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've
been there a while you catch your breath, you
look around and you begin to notice that Holland
has windmills, Holland has tulips, Holland even
had Rembrandt's. But everyone you know is busy
coming and going to and from Italy, and they are
all bragging about what a wonderful time they had
there. And for the rest of your life, you will
say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to
go."
The pain of that will
never, ever go away, because the loss of a dream
is a very significant loss. But if you spend your
life mourning the fact that you didn't get to
Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very
special and lovely things about Holland.
By Emily Pearl Kingsley.
The Perfect Heart
One day a young man was
standing in the middle of the town proclaiming
that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole
valley. A large crowd gathered and they all
admired his heart for it was perfect. There was
not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed
it truly was the most beautiful heart they had
ever seen. The young man was very proud and
boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly,
an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and
said, "Why your heart is not nearly as
beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young
man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating
strongly, but full of scars, it had places where
pieces had been removed and other pieces put in,
but they didn't fit quite right and there were
several jagged edges. In fact, in some places
there were deep gouges where whole pieces were
missing. The people stared -- how can he say his
heart is more beautiful, they thought?
The
young man looked at the old man's heart and saw
its state and laughed. "You must be
joking," he said. "Compare your heart
with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of
scars and tears." "Yes," said the
old man, "yours is perfect looking but I
would never trade with you. You see, every scar
represents a person to whom I have given my love
- I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to
them, and often they give me a piece of their
heart which fits into the empty place in my
heart, but because the pieces aren't exact, I
have some rough edges, which I cherish, because
they remind me of the love we shared.
Sometimes
I have given pieces of my heart away, and the
other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart
to me. These are the empty gouges -- giving love
is taking a chance. Although these gouges are
painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love
I have for these people too, and I hope someday
they may return and fill the space I have
waiting. So now do you see what true beauty
is?"
The
young man stood silently with tears running down
his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached
into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and
ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man
with trembling hands. The old man took his
offering, placed it in his heart and then took a
piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in
the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but
not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect
anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love
from the old man's heart flowed into his. They
embraced and walked away side by side.
Author Unknown
A Gift From God
At first glance
you were so small
I hardy saw a baby at all,
with tubes and wires
a frightening sight
but you were in for a
big fight.
Barely scraping three pounds
just skin and bones,
Your body so small
with problems so big,
but you fought hard
and continued to grow.
So many fears
So many tears
Precious child you are
home today
I love you dear,
more than words can say.
A miracle baby
A gift from God.
You showed the world
You showed us all
By Dianne Whitman
As
I Love You Through The Glass
As I love you through the
glass
a tiny hand sweeps across the blanket
reaching out to me.
You lie there in the stillness
of your slumber clinging to life;
I reach inside to touch you
and you stir slightly;
I feel a tiny breath like a feather
caress my fingers
as I love you through the glass.
One eye opens
easily staring into mine;
Can you see me?
Can you feel my presence
as I love you through the glass.
I ache to hold you;
I await the moment
when you peacefully rest in my loving arms.
A silent tear rolls down my face;
I slowly turn to walk away
only to glance back one more time
as I love you through the glass.
By Elena
Murphy
You Are You
