Being Safe is a Blessing, My Baby is Different

A mother’s experience, in realizing, that her slow-to-develop son was, a blessing, in disguise, the importance of early intervention programs of childhood, translated…

“Whether if the children are special needs or not, they’re all, mothers’ cherished, treasures.”

Every time as I watched the mothers taking their older children to the First Home to accept the treatment intervention programs, that was, what flowed through my mind.

As a public relations worker for the First Welfare Group, allowing the foundation to get on track with the rest of the society is our first and foremost, duty, we hoped, that there would be more people who are, getting educated of the importance of early intervention program, and that the elderly parents and their aging developmentally delayed adult children poses a huge concern for the society.  And so, although I’m not an educator of early intervention programs, I still came into contact with all the mothers and children in the program, understanding what they and their young are weathering through, then, I’d, passed these heartfelt stories on in words, out, so the public understand what it is that we do here, at the foundation, and the issues of concerns we want the public to become, more aware of.

As we were, holding conversations with these mothers, I’d often felt awed and thought, “Wow, they’re all, so very strong!”, I’m sure, that as the children are inside their mothers, their mothers envisioned a life for them and their young, how they’re to, get along with one another—how they will, educate them, where they’ll take them on vacation, what to, dress their kids up; but, at the moment that these mothers realized, that their babies are, “different”, their worlds, suddenly flipped, upside down.

And even so, as these mothers cried their eyes out completely, they’d used, the fastest speed, to get themselves back up, to face up to the challenges they encountered in raising their young, finding ways to help their children grow up, no matter the cost or the price.  In the process, they’d put up with the weird looks from the outside, “motherhood brings strength”, is the embodiment of their lives.

The exhibition this time, other than helping more people know, that there’s, this huge group of mother who are stronger for their own children, I’d hoped, that the rest of the world will, give these mothers, the social and emotional supports they’re, in need of.

At the same time, we also hoped to offer some strengths to the parents, who are living in uncertainty, because of their children, to let them know, that they’re, NOT alone, that we can, all work together, to help bring a brighter future to our children’s, lives, to face the future bravely.

And so, this, is the statement of purpose, of sorts, of this foundation, I suppose, as there’s a need for something like this in the world, because, not all children are born perfectly healthy, there are those infants born, with birth defects, that make their lives a hell of a lot harder, than the “normal” children, and so, there’s, this need, for a support group, a foundation like this, to offer the resources to the parents in need.

Being Safe is a Blessing, My Baby is Different

A mother’s experience, after being informed, that her child is, not “normal”, the lessons in parenting, in raising children with special needs here, translated…

I’d Called Up My Husband, Cried & Told Him that I Couldn’t Do Right by Our Young, that I’d Not Given Him a Healthy Body—If I Didn’t Have Hypertension, If I’d Stayed in the Hospital, for a Few Extra Days to Make Sure My Son was Safe, If, If, If…………

The Gynecologist Told Us to Be Prepared

One day in 2012, an infant who shouldn’t have been born so early from a mother’s uterus, came out.

illustration from UDN.com

As he was born, it wasn’t like on the televisions, with the, loud cries; he was, too quiet, because he was, too tiny, without the strengths to cry at all, the gynecologists needed to place him into an incubator, then, took him to the neonatal I.C.U. to perform the resuscitative measures on him.

Back then, because I was still, anesthetized, lying on the operating table, I’d heard the sound of him being, wheeled away, I’d, worked very hard, to stick my neck out, to take a look at him, but, after the gynecologist made sure that my son was okay, he’d, given me a complete anesthesia, and as I woke, I was outside the recovery unit outside the O.R. and all I could feel, was that ache like fires burning inside of my abdomen region.

I had pre-eclampsia, just ten days ago, my blood pressure hiked up to over 180, and, because of my osmotic pressure being abnormal, my feet swelled up that I couldn’t fit in my shoes anymore, my condition was critical, and, there’s, that risk of me having a stroke at any moment in time.  The doctors checked me into the hospital, to get my fetus safe, they’d hoped, that I could stay for a whole day until my conditions were, stabilized, then, they will be delivering my son, but, as my son was only twenty-eight weeks old, he’d, come into this world, weighing in at 724 grams.  It wasn’t until the second day after I’d gained some of my strengths back, I’d gone to the neonatal ICU to see him, as the medical staff opened up the openings in the incubator so I can touch my son, back then, he was so tiny, only, slightly, bigger than my hand, and wrapped tightly, like a mummy.

At seven in the evening, the neonatal doctors called me at my ward, and notified me that my baby wasn’t in good condition, and that they’d needed the families there to talk with.  The doctors told us, that our son had stopped breathing, because his lungs weren’t, developed fully, that he had bad lungs, that the doctors had to use a high frequency ventilator to pump more air into his system, and asked us if they should continue resuscitating him?  And told us, to be prepared.

What do I need to prepare for?  If I’m better prepared, does that mean that I won’t hurt as much?  Does it mean, that I won’t, be afraid?

Who can tell me, what I need to, prepare for?

Suddenly, I forgot the pains from my c-section, my tears started, falling like water from a broken faucet, endlessly, I’d, slouched down in the toilets, and started, trembling hard nonstop, and I couldn’t tell what I was, afraid of—maybe, I was, afraid of the news that the doctors brought to me the next second.

Thank Heavens, Our Son Had, Survived

There were, the opportunities for me to feel grateful, and this time, I’m truly, very, extremely, grateful toward everybody, everything!  I’m so grateful to the medical teams in N.T.U. Hospital, grateful to God, to all of it.  What I’m most grateful over, was for my son’s bravery, he’d not, abandoned me, and willing to allow me, to have a chance, to be his mom!  And even so, the anoxia had caused his brains to get damaged, his muscles were stretched out too much, couldn’t flip onto his stomach, and other disabilities, and all of these, reminded us, that he will, have an assortment of challenge in his life as he get older.

As my son turned one, the physical therapist told me to go read up on the books of children with cerebral palsy.  As my son was asleep, I’d started reading the materials, and, I’d felt, sadder and sadder, and started crying as I’d read, I’d, forced myself to accept, that my son had cerebral palsy, and will never, get better.

I’d called my husband, cried and told him that I’d done our son wrong, that I’d not given him a healthy enough body—had I not had hypertension, had I stayed in the hospital longer to make sure that my fetus was fine, if only, and had I only…………..all of these only brought me more regrets.

I knew, that after this cry, I shall not, cry anymore, I’d needed to, become that strength, that stable source of support behind my own son, so he could, play the best hand he could, being dealt this sort of a hand in life, looking forward, that, is what’s, most, important now, if I can’t even, steady my self, who will he have, to lean on for support?

For the days that followed, we’d followed the rehabilitation schedules for the treatment processes, back then, that poor tiny baby who can only stay in the incubators, who was only, the size of our, palms, slowly become this, elementary year student, who’d needed me to, urge him, to get his homework done for the night.

I can’t say, that early intervention, is what saved both my and my son’s lives.  With the treatment programs, I’d understood, that he could, live on his own; because of the occupational therapy trainings, as I was in doubt, there’s, that light of hope, offered to my life.  The Love Intellect Development Center offered the courses that gave my son the extra stimulations that he’d needed, to help him progressed faster, helped him acquired more abilities—from how he couldn’t walk at all, to this badass boy who’s, ramming around on the walkers; from how he’d not talked a word at age three, to that annoying boy who continually bugged us for new toys, and talked back because he didn’t want to work on his homework.

I’m truly grateful, that the heavens allowed me to understand, how blessed it was, to have a healthy child from my son’s earliest trials of life, for allowing me to meet up with a ton of supportive people in the programs that helped my son grow up stronger, made me realized, that “being safe, is, the biggest blessing of all!”

And now, this talkative, ramming around, slacked off a lot boy, he’d, often gotten me fumed completely, because of how naughty he was……and yet, I’m still, more than, grateful, that the heavens are willing, to give both my son and I a chance, so I can, have it like an ordinary mother, to have the simple blessings of having my child climb onto my body, to hug him, to kiss him, to pinch him, to scream at him, to get upset with him when he’d done, something wrong, this sort, of an, ordinary, bliss.

And so, from this woman’s experience, you can see, how it’s a blessing, to have a healthy child, and, even as this woman’s son wasn’t born healthy, but with the early intervention programs, the devotion of his parents, the therapists, he still, grew up, as best as he could, and now, this woman is, enjoying the bliss, of having a teenage child, remembering the hard beginnings that they both shared together.