I find it amusing watching how people react upon mentioning that my daughter has a disability. Well at first I felt very defensive, sometimes ashamed… but now, even if I still lie about her age to most people, I take no offense in the oftentimes off reactions of people. Its sort of like being a part of a social experiment... sometimes shocking, sometimes dumbfounding, sometimes awkward, but most times amusing. Here are some of my classic experiences…
The Awkward Silence
Lady: Oh, look a tiny baby. How old is she?
Me: She’s 10 months.
Lady: No! She can’t be 10 months. She’s too small. Is she a preemie?
Me: No… she has a syndrome
Lady: Silence…. A really long and awkward silence.
The That’s Lucky
Most of the people in our church community are aware that many daughter has special needs. They may not know exactly the name of the syndrome she has, or the many complications that came with my Isabella having the WHS, but they know that my daughter has special needs. So it’s not really a surprise is a curiosity will propel someone to actually approach me to ask about details….
Lady: So you’re daughter has a disability?
Me: Yes. She has a syndrome.
Lady: I heard she was just at the hospital and was in the emergency room.
Me: Yeah, she had a seizure.
Lady: Oh, I’m sorry…We prayed for you.
Me: Oh thank you for all your paryers.
Lady: You’re lucky do you know that?
Me: I guess so.
Lady: Watch it. You’re going to win something big.
Me: Like in the lottery or at the casino?
Lady: Yeah. Cause having a baby like that is lucky.
Me: Oh I hope you’re right.
Lady: Watch it and you’ll see. That’s lucky.
The Is Something Wrong With Her
Lady: Oh, look at this small baby. Is she a preemie?
Me: No… she’s just small.
Lady: Is something wrong with her?
Me: No, nothing wrong with her…. She has a syndrome, but nothing is wrong with her.
The lady then, with that pity look in her eyes and a small smile on her lips, touches me on the shoulder, touches the baby’s head, then walks away.
The What’s Up With Her Eyes
I was at the photo store picking up a set of pictures. I was reviewing them on the counter when the lady behind me goes
Lady: Oh look at those baby pictures.
Me: Smiled
Lady: Who’s baby is that? What’s up with her eyes?
Me: She’s mine. What do you mean what’s up with her eyes?
Lady: Oh, I’m sorry…. Then she immediately walked away.
What I really wanted to say was…
Me: What?!? Her eyes are not proportionally spaced enough for you !?!
The She Looks Like an Elf
I brought the baby with me to work one time. Most everyone at work know that my baby has a syndrome. Not everyone know the details, but nonetheless its common knowledge at work that my baby is a special needs baby.
Co teacher 1: Oh look at her. She’s looking around.
Co Teacher 2: She seems aware of what’s around her
Isabella then smiles, moves her hands around and kicks
Co teacher 3: Oh look she’s smiling.
Co teacher 4: And she’s looking at you
Co Teacher 5: It seems like she knows you.
(Duh? I’m her mom?)
Co Teacher 6: She’s just really happy and smiling.
Co Teacher 7: Yes she does.
Co teacher 8: She’s so cute.
Co teacher: 9 She looks like an elf!
I know they all mean well and most of them just probably don’t know what to say, or how to react but wanted to say something. I’m sure when they saw my Isabella, she was not what they were expecting her to be. They were probably thinking that my baby is a non responsive vegetable, and while I do respect all that, and honestly take no offense at it, I was surprised with the “elf” comment.
The She’s Not 15 months
So, this follows the story of when I brought my daughter to work…
Co teacher 1: So, how old is she now?
Me: She’s 15 months.
Co teacher 2: No, she’s not 15 months?
Me: (I’m thinking, Are you seriously saying this?)
Co Teacher 3: Is she really 15 months?
Me: Yes. I’m sure. (Are they doubting me… the mommy? )
Co teacher 4: She looks more like 4 months.
Me: Yeah… she’s the size of a 4 month old. But I’m sure she’s 15 months now.
What I really wanted to say was…
Me: Yeah… remember? About 4 months ago I had a baby? Remember that?
This whole conversation with my co teachers kinda surprised me really coz I what thought was common knowledge, I guess isn’t really “common”.
The Don’t be Frustrated
We work with many doctors/specialists. Out of the many doctors we work with, we only met one who has actually met or seen another child with WHS. This one time that we had an appointment with him, our conversation went like this...
Doctor: Tell me the things she can do now.
Me: She rolls, she puts her hands together, she outs her thumb in her mouth, and she can sit supporting herself with her hands.
Doctor: Does she smile?
Me: Yes she does… she smiles a lot and at everyone.
Doctor: (To Isabella) Are you going to smile for me little princess?
Me: Go Isabella, smile for the doctor, come on… come on.
Isabella does not smile.
Doctor: That’s okay. She’s probably smiling and you just don’t know it because of the down turned mouth that WHS kids have.
Me: Oh, but she does smile and you can really see it. Come on Isabella, smile for the doctor.
Doctor: That’s okay. You don’t need to be frustrated. I’m sure she’s smiling right now, but we just can’t see it.
Me: (I’m thinking… but I really do see it and its an obvious smile, and I’m not frustrated because she does smile and, no… I don’t think she has a prominent “downturned mouth” that I can’t tell if my own daughter is smiling).
And this is my most favorite…
The My Condolences
I have not spoken with this friend for a loooong time. I was busy with my pregnancy with Isabella, and then dealing with complications towards the later part of the pregnancy and then the long list of things right after she was born… when we finally got the chance to talk, here is how our conversation went…
Friend: Hey. I have not spoken to you in a while. I hear all these things through the grapevine about what’s going on with your daughter, but I was not really sure until I actually get to talk to you. So how is your daughter?
Me: It’s a long story. (Then I started choking on tears). She has a syndrome and she has all these complications. Underdeveloped brain structures, fluid in the brain, brain cysts, liver cysts, hearing loss, small kidneys, acid reflux, kidney reflux, cleft palate…. It just seems to go on and on…=
Friend: So how are you?
Me: I’m coping… I’m trying my best.
Friend: Well… my condolences.
Now this got me thinking…. Is my condolences something you say when you send your sympathy in general, not necessarily, specific to someone passing away?... I’m confused.
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Showing posts with label people. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
So, What Do You Say?
When my son was younger random people would just approach us and comment about how beautiful he is, how his curls make him cuter, etc. He attracted a lot of people. And we weren’t really surprised, he was a very cute baby.
Now, it’s Isabella’s turn. Random people would just come up to us and comment about how her eyes are bright and beautiful, how her lips are perfect, how her cheeks are so round and chubby that you just want to bite it, how she is so cuddly and squeezable, how she is beautiful and stunning and is no doubt a baby “girl”.
Now this is really nothing unusual. You see a baby, you look.
BUT, something was a little different…. Isabella seems to attract more people than Eloi did. She seem to magnet a lot more “oohhs” and “ahhs”. Could it be that she is that beautiful? Or is it because of something else?
When people do see and talk to her and try to get a smile out of her, they tend to ask this one question “ How old is she?” Now, I always find myself pausing before I answer this question (much like how I somehow try to avoid being asked the question “How is the baby?” or “How are you?”)
In that brief pause, this thought runs through my mind, “Do I tell her how old she really is?”
If I tell her that Isabella’s 6 months old, it will ensue a lot of follow up questions, and those follow up questions also give me a feeling of dread.
Is she a preemie? (No she’s not, she’s full term)
Why is she sooo tiny? (because her size is syndrome related)
Is anything wrong with her? (No! Maybe something is wrong
with you to even ask me that when I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU!)
I know, I know… most people mean well and they do get curious. Although, I have to admit that I did find myself wondering if the reason behind Isabella attracting extra curiosity is because of her ‘”look”. I did get to wonder if people are just being polite when they say “she’s beautiful” or if they see it. I am not a big fan of people staring.
The mama bear in me feels very defensive and protective of her little cub.
What do I say? Do I shock them with the response ‘Oh, it’s because she has a syndrome.” And walk away leaving them dumbfounded and marinating in their confused thoughts. Should I tell them that she has this rare syndrome and then proceed with a full blown lecture about WHS? If I do explain, will it result in the much needed “education of the public” about children with special needs? Do I print out brochures and flyers and pack them with me in my diaper bag ready to hand-out when the questions come?
Now, my husband tells them how old she really is, and when they ask why she’s small, he tells them,
“Because she just is.”
How he answers them makes perfect sense doesn’t it? I should be able to make myself confidently blurt out the same response… BUT, after his response people stay and look and stare at the baby and then look at us, as if waiting for a follow up, as if waiting for an explanation on why she’s small… they seem to not be content with “because she just is”. We stand there playing the “staring chicken game”…. And when it gets to the point that it becomes awkward, too awkward, they usually just walk away.
That “waiting for further information”, bothers me. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. I hope that eventually it won’t.
And since it bothers me, I tell people that Isabella is younger than she actually is. The other day this scenario happened…
Stranger: Oh, tiny baby! How old is she?
Me: Pause…. She’s 3 months.
Stranger: 3 months? She’s too small for 3 months. (then stared
at me as if waiting for an answer)
Me: Staring…. Just staring… and eventually the stranger just
walked away.
I realized I can’t pass my daughter for a 3 month old, so I decided to go another month lower and see if that excuse will “fly”. So with the next stranger…
Stranger: Oh, cute baby! How old is she?
Me: Pause…. She’s 2 months.
Stranger: Smiles, stroked the baby's head a little and then
walked away.
No awkwardness, no staring, no need to be defensive. There is this relief that that response worked out, HOWEVER, there is also this guilty lying feeling that sits in the pit of my stomach. And this tells me that what I’m doing is not quite right. Why else will my conscience bother me, right?
But, how long I can keep this up? Should I continue on with this “lie” (a white lie)? Should I come up with a better and more honest response that will not ensue such awkwardness, that won’t ensue that feeling that I need to explain?
I know, I know, I don’t really owe anybody, especially strangers an explanation, but, What do I say?
Now, it’s Isabella’s turn. Random people would just come up to us and comment about how her eyes are bright and beautiful, how her lips are perfect, how her cheeks are so round and chubby that you just want to bite it, how she is so cuddly and squeezable, how she is beautiful and stunning and is no doubt a baby “girl”.
Now this is really nothing unusual. You see a baby, you look.
BUT, something was a little different…. Isabella seems to attract more people than Eloi did. She seem to magnet a lot more “oohhs” and “ahhs”. Could it be that she is that beautiful? Or is it because of something else?
When people do see and talk to her and try to get a smile out of her, they tend to ask this one question “ How old is she?” Now, I always find myself pausing before I answer this question (much like how I somehow try to avoid being asked the question “How is the baby?” or “How are you?”)
In that brief pause, this thought runs through my mind, “Do I tell her how old she really is?”
If I tell her that Isabella’s 6 months old, it will ensue a lot of follow up questions, and those follow up questions also give me a feeling of dread.
Is she a preemie? (No she’s not, she’s full term)
Why is she sooo tiny? (because her size is syndrome related)
Is anything wrong with her? (No! Maybe something is wrong
with you to even ask me that when I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU!)
I know, I know… most people mean well and they do get curious. Although, I have to admit that I did find myself wondering if the reason behind Isabella attracting extra curiosity is because of her ‘”look”. I did get to wonder if people are just being polite when they say “she’s beautiful” or if they see it. I am not a big fan of people staring.
The mama bear in me feels very defensive and protective of her little cub.
What do I say? Do I shock them with the response ‘Oh, it’s because she has a syndrome.” And walk away leaving them dumbfounded and marinating in their confused thoughts. Should I tell them that she has this rare syndrome and then proceed with a full blown lecture about WHS? If I do explain, will it result in the much needed “education of the public” about children with special needs? Do I print out brochures and flyers and pack them with me in my diaper bag ready to hand-out when the questions come?
Now, my husband tells them how old she really is, and when they ask why she’s small, he tells them,
“Because she just is.”
How he answers them makes perfect sense doesn’t it? I should be able to make myself confidently blurt out the same response… BUT, after his response people stay and look and stare at the baby and then look at us, as if waiting for a follow up, as if waiting for an explanation on why she’s small… they seem to not be content with “because she just is”. We stand there playing the “staring chicken game”…. And when it gets to the point that it becomes awkward, too awkward, they usually just walk away.
That “waiting for further information”, bothers me. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. I hope that eventually it won’t.
And since it bothers me, I tell people that Isabella is younger than she actually is. The other day this scenario happened…
Stranger: Oh, tiny baby! How old is she?
Me: Pause…. She’s 3 months.
Stranger: 3 months? She’s too small for 3 months. (then stared
at me as if waiting for an answer)
Me: Staring…. Just staring… and eventually the stranger just
walked away.
I realized I can’t pass my daughter for a 3 month old, so I decided to go another month lower and see if that excuse will “fly”. So with the next stranger…
Stranger: Oh, cute baby! How old is she?
Me: Pause…. She’s 2 months.
Stranger: Smiles, stroked the baby's head a little and then
walked away.
No awkwardness, no staring, no need to be defensive. There is this relief that that response worked out, HOWEVER, there is also this guilty lying feeling that sits in the pit of my stomach. And this tells me that what I’m doing is not quite right. Why else will my conscience bother me, right?
But, how long I can keep this up? Should I continue on with this “lie” (a white lie)? Should I come up with a better and more honest response that will not ensue such awkwardness, that won’t ensue that feeling that I need to explain?
I know, I know, I don’t really owe anybody, especially strangers an explanation, but, What do I say?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
“That’s retarded.”
You’ve probably heard this before as a comment that follows an account of something somebody did that was silly.
How about this one… “ He’s a retard.”
As a comment that follows a description of what a person did that was not up to par with someone’s standards or expectations.
With both above comments… there are two connotations for the word “retard/ed”… one, that it is something that is silly or funny, OR that it is an insult due to a result of one’s foolish actions.
Well my daughter is retarded… how’s that for a description for a human being? What feelings did it evoke in you? Did you think that I was being rude? Or did you think that I find my daughter comically strange?
NO… I did not, and will not ever, use this word to mean that it is an insult, nor as something that suggests something humorous.
Society has misconstrued the definition of the word “retarded” in so many different ways… from something that connotes peculiar amusement all the way to something that has an offensive undertone.
By definition of the BOOKS, the word retarded means “delayed”… add that to the word mental, then mental retardation in simple terms is “delayed cognitive functioning”. Now, by no means does this mean that when something is super funny then that something is intellectually impaired, or if one makes thoughtless comments or actions then that someone automatically has deficits in mental functioning… for if that were the case then haven’t we ALL at one time or another have done something irrational or imprudent? Haven’t we ALL at one time did something that is deemed uproarious? But are we ALL then going to own up to being described as “retarded”?
My daughter is retarded. At this point she already has significant delays in her development. Though it still is too really predict what the future holds for her, there is already a lot of uncertainties. The label mental retardation is a bitter pill to swallow for any parent with a child who has this condition. Yes folks it is a condition. Not an instance, not a comment, not an action, and most definitely NOT an adjective that can justifiably describe somebody. It is a condition, no more no less. But society, and people with impaired understanding of the depth of what this word really means, deems it otherwise. And this is a sad truth, and a very “retarded” grasp of what the word really means (and by retarded I mean backward).
What makes it harder to swallow is the negative connotation that society has given it.
My daughter has “Mental Retardation”…. Not in the sense of it being a comment or an insult, it is a fact. Is it a great label to have? NO. I don’t think any parent would want that label for their children. Nor would any other label that connotes that something is “not typical” for any child. Anything that connotes a “special need” is something that creates worry and anxiety in any parent, whether the special need be something that is a result of a medical condition or because of a condition that suggests developmental delays (in one or several or all developmental areas). I also do not expect to have everyone be able to understand what “mental retardation” really means, not with society seemingly resisting to have its definition evolve in a positive direction.
But this label, this “Mental Retardation” is a label that qualifies my daughter for services as early as infancy... services she needs.. services that I as a parent cannot provide by myself…. services that can help her move towards the developmental ladder at her own pace, in her own timing, so that she can develop her full potential… so that she may have a better quality of life.
And NO… I don’t think that anything she does is strange and peculiar. If she makes us laugh or smile it is not because she did something really funny, if for anything the smiles and laughter she brings into our home is out of pure and utter JOY of having her enrich our lives… Now how’s that for “retarded”?
You’ve probably heard this before as a comment that follows an account of something somebody did that was silly.
How about this one… “ He’s a retard.”
As a comment that follows a description of what a person did that was not up to par with someone’s standards or expectations.
With both above comments… there are two connotations for the word “retard/ed”… one, that it is something that is silly or funny, OR that it is an insult due to a result of one’s foolish actions.
Well my daughter is retarded… how’s that for a description for a human being? What feelings did it evoke in you? Did you think that I was being rude? Or did you think that I find my daughter comically strange?
NO… I did not, and will not ever, use this word to mean that it is an insult, nor as something that suggests something humorous.
Society has misconstrued the definition of the word “retarded” in so many different ways… from something that connotes peculiar amusement all the way to something that has an offensive undertone.
By definition of the BOOKS, the word retarded means “delayed”… add that to the word mental, then mental retardation in simple terms is “delayed cognitive functioning”. Now, by no means does this mean that when something is super funny then that something is intellectually impaired, or if one makes thoughtless comments or actions then that someone automatically has deficits in mental functioning… for if that were the case then haven’t we ALL at one time or another have done something irrational or imprudent? Haven’t we ALL at one time did something that is deemed uproarious? But are we ALL then going to own up to being described as “retarded”?
My daughter is retarded. At this point she already has significant delays in her development. Though it still is too really predict what the future holds for her, there is already a lot of uncertainties. The label mental retardation is a bitter pill to swallow for any parent with a child who has this condition. Yes folks it is a condition. Not an instance, not a comment, not an action, and most definitely NOT an adjective that can justifiably describe somebody. It is a condition, no more no less. But society, and people with impaired understanding of the depth of what this word really means, deems it otherwise. And this is a sad truth, and a very “retarded” grasp of what the word really means (and by retarded I mean backward).
What makes it harder to swallow is the negative connotation that society has given it.
My daughter has “Mental Retardation”…. Not in the sense of it being a comment or an insult, it is a fact. Is it a great label to have? NO. I don’t think any parent would want that label for their children. Nor would any other label that connotes that something is “not typical” for any child. Anything that connotes a “special need” is something that creates worry and anxiety in any parent, whether the special need be something that is a result of a medical condition or because of a condition that suggests developmental delays (in one or several or all developmental areas). I also do not expect to have everyone be able to understand what “mental retardation” really means, not with society seemingly resisting to have its definition evolve in a positive direction.
But this label, this “Mental Retardation” is a label that qualifies my daughter for services as early as infancy... services she needs.. services that I as a parent cannot provide by myself…. services that can help her move towards the developmental ladder at her own pace, in her own timing, so that she can develop her full potential… so that she may have a better quality of life.
And NO… I don’t think that anything she does is strange and peculiar. If she makes us laugh or smile it is not because she did something really funny, if for anything the smiles and laughter she brings into our home is out of pure and utter JOY of having her enrich our lives… Now how’s that for “retarded”?
Monday, February 15, 2010
So How Are You?
A week from today I’ll be coming back to work. I’m sure that I will be asked the question…
“So, how are you?” (with head slightly tilted to the side)
I’ve been asked this question for the nth time, and although answering this question for the nth time makes me want to scream, I’m sure people have good intentions and are just genuinely concerned about how I am.
So how am I doing?
My response is (and it has not changed from the last time I was asked the same question)… I am fine.
The word fine does not connote a feeling of ecstasy nor negativity… the word “fine” just is.
So, there… I’m doing fine.
“So, how are you?” (with head slightly tilted to the side)
I’ve been asked this question for the nth time, and although answering this question for the nth time makes me want to scream, I’m sure people have good intentions and are just genuinely concerned about how I am.
So how am I doing?
My response is (and it has not changed from the last time I was asked the same question)… I am fine.
The word fine does not connote a feeling of ecstasy nor negativity… the word “fine” just is.
So, there… I’m doing fine.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Word Found Its Way Through The Grapevine
Do you know that feeling of excited anticipation for the arrival of your little bundle of joy months, weeks, days before you’re due? Well I didn’t have that. What I felt weeks and days before my delivery date was worry and confusion.
Do you know how when you finally have your baby, you can’t wait to show him/her to the whole world and brag about him/her? Well, I initially didn’t have that either.
I was unsure on who to tell and how to tell people that I was anticipating the arrival of a child with special needs. Weeks after my daughter’s birth I was adamant on telling people that my daughter has a syndrome, a rare genetic syndrome called Wolf Hirschorn Syndrome.
But word found it’s way around and eventually people that I am not even close to were made aware that I gave birth to a “special” child. Did this make me upset? Well, not really. For one it saved me the time to explain, and the effort to let them on in the historical accounts of events.
It saved me from telling and retelling the same story over and over again… it saved me from telling the story from the very beginning and I was saved from remembering the shock of finding out and the talking about the pain of dealing with it.
I am thankful that word found it’s way around because I can start telling my story from “here”. Because to start telling my story from “there”, I might find myself crying again and honestly I am tired of crying. I would see that sympathetic-head-tilted-on-the-side-look and I would feel pity for myself, and frankly I am tired of that too.
So thank you really for those who told and retold and keep retelling on my behalf because that gives me the “here” to start from because being “there” was not really doing me any good.
Do you know how when you finally have your baby, you can’t wait to show him/her to the whole world and brag about him/her? Well, I initially didn’t have that either.
I was unsure on who to tell and how to tell people that I was anticipating the arrival of a child with special needs. Weeks after my daughter’s birth I was adamant on telling people that my daughter has a syndrome, a rare genetic syndrome called Wolf Hirschorn Syndrome.
But word found it’s way around and eventually people that I am not even close to were made aware that I gave birth to a “special” child. Did this make me upset? Well, not really. For one it saved me the time to explain, and the effort to let them on in the historical accounts of events.
It saved me from telling and retelling the same story over and over again… it saved me from telling the story from the very beginning and I was saved from remembering the shock of finding out and the talking about the pain of dealing with it.
I am thankful that word found it’s way around because I can start telling my story from “here”. Because to start telling my story from “there”, I might find myself crying again and honestly I am tired of crying. I would see that sympathetic-head-tilted-on-the-side-look and I would feel pity for myself, and frankly I am tired of that too.
So thank you really for those who told and retold and keep retelling on my behalf because that gives me the “here” to start from because being “there” was not really doing me any good.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Not Because of the Common Cold
The genetics doctors were right. Not everyone will understand what the word syndrome or genetic disorder means. Some people, even family, will think that it all genetic disorders are hereditary (But of course no one would really think that it came from their side of the family.. and sometimes they are hereditary) or that it was because of something that was done during the course of pregnancy.
One time this lady told me that she remembers that I had frequent colds while I was pregnant. She then adds this could have happened because of that. I then added that I have allergies (rhinitis), but she still insists that it could be because of my frequent morning colds. It almost seemed like she was so certain of her “hunch”…perhaps she really felt it in her gut.
Truth is WHS was not caused by anything that I did, or didn’t do, or overdid or didn’t do enough. WHS was a result of a chromosomal abnormality. It happened during the moment of conception when the mother and father’s chromosomes unite to form a new, unique human being. Chromosomes are long strands of DNA complexed with proteins and RNA that condense and allow for equal distribution of the genes when cells divide. Each chromosome contains hundreds or thousands of genes, and every cell needs to have two copies of each chromosome in order to maintain genetic balance. At the time of conception, an extra copy or missing copy of a chromosome or even a part of a chromosome disrupted normal development and thus resulted in syndromes that are caused by chromosomal abnormalities. This is true for Wolf Hirschorn Syndrome where the disruption occurred in the 4th chromosome (a portion of the arm of the 4th chromosome is short or missing). It all happened during conception... before I even knew I was pregnant.
So there, WHS happened not because I stood in front of the microwave while I was warming up my soup. It was not because I used the photocopying machine frequently while I was pregnant. It was not because of pesticides that I might have been exposed to since the school that I work with is surrounded by fields. It was not because I may have accidentally sniffed some chemicals while I was having my nails done at the salon. It was not because I ate overcooked broccoli or a banana with dark spots. It was not because I had one too many fish. It was not because I had the flu shot. Not because of the swine flu shot either. It was not because I let the dog lick my face or because I frequently went up and down the stairs. It was not caused by that one time that I had to take my prenatal vitamins in the evening because I forgot to take it in the morning, nor was it because I had missed taking my prenatal vitamins for one, maybe two days. It was not because I ate the cracker that fell off the floor that I picked up after 5 seconds. It was not because I happened to be with special needs children for the most part of my day, nor is it because I happened to watch a documentary on HBO about children with special needs while I was pregnant. It was not because roses are red or that violets are blue. AND It is most certainly and definitely is not, and I’m sorry to burst your bubble, because I had a cold.
One time this lady told me that she remembers that I had frequent colds while I was pregnant. She then adds this could have happened because of that. I then added that I have allergies (rhinitis), but she still insists that it could be because of my frequent morning colds. It almost seemed like she was so certain of her “hunch”…perhaps she really felt it in her gut.
Truth is WHS was not caused by anything that I did, or didn’t do, or overdid or didn’t do enough. WHS was a result of a chromosomal abnormality. It happened during the moment of conception when the mother and father’s chromosomes unite to form a new, unique human being. Chromosomes are long strands of DNA complexed with proteins and RNA that condense and allow for equal distribution of the genes when cells divide. Each chromosome contains hundreds or thousands of genes, and every cell needs to have two copies of each chromosome in order to maintain genetic balance. At the time of conception, an extra copy or missing copy of a chromosome or even a part of a chromosome disrupted normal development and thus resulted in syndromes that are caused by chromosomal abnormalities. This is true for Wolf Hirschorn Syndrome where the disruption occurred in the 4th chromosome (a portion of the arm of the 4th chromosome is short or missing). It all happened during conception... before I even knew I was pregnant.
So there, WHS happened not because I stood in front of the microwave while I was warming up my soup. It was not because I used the photocopying machine frequently while I was pregnant. It was not because of pesticides that I might have been exposed to since the school that I work with is surrounded by fields. It was not because I may have accidentally sniffed some chemicals while I was having my nails done at the salon. It was not because I ate overcooked broccoli or a banana with dark spots. It was not because I had one too many fish. It was not because I had the flu shot. Not because of the swine flu shot either. It was not because I let the dog lick my face or because I frequently went up and down the stairs. It was not caused by that one time that I had to take my prenatal vitamins in the evening because I forgot to take it in the morning, nor was it because I had missed taking my prenatal vitamins for one, maybe two days. It was not because I ate the cracker that fell off the floor that I picked up after 5 seconds. It was not because I happened to be with special needs children for the most part of my day, nor is it because I happened to watch a documentary on HBO about children with special needs while I was pregnant. It was not because roses are red or that violets are blue. AND It is most certainly and definitely is not, and I’m sorry to burst your bubble, because I had a cold.
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