When you say things like this, I want you to remember a face.
This is my daughter. In this picture, she’s playing soccer. With a Special Olympics team.
You see, she was born with a metabolic disorder that caused brain damage when she was only a week old. She may never read over a third grade level. She still has a speech impairment despite 12 years of therapy. She’s socially inept at times.
Yeah, she’s what some people would call “a retard.”
Only that word is complete and utter bullshit.
Hearing that word cuts both her and me worse than any knife could. There is absolutely no reason to use that word. EVER. Don’t give me the bullshit that it’s a medical term. If you do, I’m liable to scream “shut the fuck up” in your face. Well, maybe not, but I will be screaming it in my head.
If you’re going to use the word retard, you might as well use words like nig****, fag****, dyke, cunt… Oh, but you won’t use those words. Those are bad words.
But retard? Well, that’s not so bad. After all, the only people that’s only insulting the mentally impaired. And they don’t know what is going on, do they?
I have news for you though. They do know what’s going on. Mentally impaired people have feelings, hopes, and dreams just like the rest of us. If you take a few minutes and actually get to know someone who is mentally impaired, you’ll discover that.
This isn’t about being politically correct. It’s about showing some RESPECT.
Before I became a mom, I had a certain expectation of what motherhood would be like. We would have a healthy baby, she would have so much in common with Lance, my husband, and I. She would be an avid reader, unable to put a book down. She would be well-spoken, and involved in theater and maybe even debate club. She would be musical, marching in the band or playing in the orchestra. She would have a regular spot on the honor roll.
When Anna was born, she was healthy. The fact that she scored 9 on the Apgar scale was a point of pride. Then, after a few days, our world slowly started to turn upside down.
When she was diagnosed with Maple Syrup Urine Disease at eight days old, a whole new definition of motherhood was thrust upon me. I had a very sick baby, with a disease with a weird name about which I knew very little, and who was potentially brain damaged. I was introduced to a world that I never knew existed.
I never knew what leucine, isoleucine, and valine were, or how much my daughter would be allowed to have within a day.
I never thought I’d be in an emergency room watching a doctor and a group of med students smell my daughter’s diaper.
I never knew how terrifying a simple stomach bug could be.
I never thought I’d have to use my entire body weight to hold down a screaming child so the nurse can insert an IV that will save her life.
I expected to use our blender to occasionally make margaritas. Not to blend a foul smelling medical formula at least once a day, every single day, for almost 13 years.
I never expected to burn out 3 blenders during those almost 13 years.
I never thought I’d have to poke my daughter’s heel/toe/finger to bleed it out on filter paper, or check urine samples to see how cloudy they are when mixed with DNPH chemicals.
I never expected to have to explain my daughter’s disorder to everyone.
I never thought I’d have to patiently re-explain when someone would say “she can’t eat meat… but she can eat chicken, right?”
I never thought I’d throw my “what to expect’ book against the wall because she was not meeting developmental milestones like the experts “expected”
I never thought I’d know what an IEP is.
I never expected to be cheering for her as she competed in the Special Olympics.
My version of motherhood never included all of these challenges. This was not what I signed up for. Yet, despite all of these challenges I’ve faced as a mom, I wouldn’t trade one of them. I will face all of those, plus whatever else MUD throws at me, because that is what it means to be Anna’s mom.
