Coping With Your Child's Disability

The moment I first saw my daughter Elizabeth, I knewno use in letting myself get overwhelmed with despair
we were in trouble. "Her head looks so small," I thought,over what Elizabeth might not be able to do in the
"so deformed." After viewing a CAT scan, thefuture. Today's tasks were what I needed to tackle. I
neonatologist said, "Your daughter has profoundwas told Elizabeth could die unexpectedly at any
microcephaly-her brain is extremely damaged and hasmoment. I could die at any moment for that matter.
calcium deposits throughout. If she lives, she will neverWhat was the point of losing my sanity fretting about
roll over, sit up, or feed herself." As the weeks turnedtomorrow? The Scripture that helped me stay
into months, the doctor was proven right.focused was "Perfect love casts out fear" (1 John
"My life is over," I thought after hearing his initial4:18). Although I prayed for a miracle all the time, I
pronouncement. But as the months turned into years, Ibegan thinking that I needed to concentrate on loving
was proven wrong. Recovering from the shock andand caring for her at that moment and not dwell on
horror over your child's prognosis takeswhat tomorrow could bring.
determination--but mainly, it takes love, forgiveness andWriting also gave me the courage to handle the
humbly accepting help from friends and strangers.realities of my life. My career as a writer began with a
Despite wrestling with God the first year with "Whyseries of form letters to my family and friends to
me?" (I had caught cytomegalovirus--CMV--when Iupdate them on how Jim, my older daughter, Jackie,
was pregnant with her), I was often comforted by anand I were doing after Elizabeth's birth. It was much
act of kindness from a stranger (I always attributedeasier to write about our circumstances than to wait
God with sending me that person) or from a particularfor loved ones to ask me terribly painful questions like,
Scripture that seemed meant just for me and my"How are you doing emotionally?" or "What is
particular anguish at the moment. The first severalElizabeth's prognosis?" or "Is she sitting up yet?" I could
months after Elizabeth's birth and diagnosis, I wallowednot bear reflecting on those topics over and over
in the bitterness and suffering of others, especially inagain. I preferred to let everyone know what was
the Bible where I found Scriptures like, "My days havegoing on through my letters, so that when we spoke
passed, my plans are shattered, and so are theby phone or face-to-face, we could speak of more
desires of my heart." Job 17:11pleasant matters. My soul needed to see cheerful
My first prayers for Elizabeth, other than that Godfaces around me, not ones filled with awkwardness
would heal her immediately, were that I'd love her.and pity for our plight.
What a horrible thing for a mother to have toI sat Elizabeth on my lap while I pursued my newfound
admit--that she needed God's help to love her ownpassion. As time went by, and I began to appreciate
child. My husband Jim, on the other hand, loved her atElizabeth just the way she was, I no longer focused on
first sight. "She needs me," he said.her doctor appointments and what the doctors had to
Elizabeth's nurses were to first to spark feelings ofsay, but on "normal" family events. Within a year after
love in me toward Elizabeth. "Look, she loves to haveher birth, I began writing stories about the lighter side of
her head rubbed," one said as she held her in theour lives.
crook of her arm and rubbed the top of her head withElizabeth nestled on my lap for hours watching my
her free hand. "Take her home and enjoy her-try notwords fill the computer screen in our laundry room,
to worry about what her future holds. Just take it onewhich also served as my office. She loved the gentle
day at a time."movements my arms made while I typed. Since writing
But once home, I was so depressed I could barelysoothed my soul, perhaps getting my stories published
function. All I could do was rock Elizabeth and listen towould soothe it even more! I bought "The Writer's
sad music about others who endured indescribableMarket," a fat book full of publishers and "How To's"
suffering. I immersed myself in the Book of Psalms.and began my life as a freelance writer, getting stories
Before Elizabeth was born, I really couldn't relate to thepublished about Elizabeth and congenital CMV, as well
Psalmists. I thought, "Wow, those people are reallyas lighthearted "slice of life" stories about our family.
depressed!" Now, I found comfort in their bitterLittle did I know that Elizabeth too would benefit from
questions, such as, "How long must I bear pain in mymy need to share my thoughts. When my story about
soul, and have sorrow all the day?"her, "Elizabeth: A Christmas Blessing," appeared in
If I was ever to move forward and find happinessmagazines and newsletters, she began receiving fan
again, I knew I had to stop dwelling on themail! One young man, an inmate who was handed a
unanswerable questions that kept popping into mycopy of Celebrate Life magazine in his jail cell, began
head like, "Why would God let me catch CMV?"; "Whywriting to Elizabeth regularly. I had no idea if she
didn't my OB/GYN warn me about this?" and "Who didunderstood the words I read to her from her pen pal,
I catch it from?" (Congenital CMV, which causes morebut she loved to watch me rip the envelop open and
disabilities than Down syndrome, can be avoided ifunfold the papers in front of her. The prisoner's words
women of child-bearing age wash their hands oftento Elizabeth were full of hope. He repeatedly told her
when caring for children under six and if they refrainthat God loved her, and like him, she would be set free
from kissing them around the mouth.)one day.
It took Elizabeth a couple of months to figure outSharing my feelings with the public made me feel less
where my face was, but then one day she lookedalone in my world of raising a severely handicapped
directly into my eyes and smiled-we had finallychild. C.S. Lewis, author of "The Lion, the Witch and the
connected! I gradually began to think, "If she doesn'tWardrobe," said, "We read to know we are not alone."
care that she's severely mentally retarded, and, apartPerhaps that was why I found writing so
from a miracle, will never walk or talk, why should I betherapeutic-not only did it force me to put words to my
so upset?" Maybe it was my prescription sedativefeelings, making order out of the chaos, but when I
talking, but that thought stuck with me, even when I nothrew my thoughts out to the public and got a
longer needed "mother's little helpers" to get me out ofresponse, then I knew that I wasn't alone. And more
bed and into the shower.importantly, that Elizabeth, who could not reach out to
I decided to follow the nurse's advice and just thinkothers through words or touch because her cerebral
about Elizabeth's care one day at a time. There waspalsy was so severe, was not alone either.