Perfect.
Or
Perfection.
What does it mean? What is perfect? What is it that you see before the word perfection leaves your mouth? What makes you believe that something is perfect?
I don't even know how to begin to start to explain this lump in my throat. This throb in my heart that makes me feel as if I'm about to explode into a million and one pieces. I want to curl up with my children and protect them from everyone that could hurt them.
Right now. This very moment, I would trade anything for this feeling to go.
How do we as parents of such fragile children protect them from people. Protect them from the world that threatens to take more away everyday. How do we protect our children who have special-need siblings that they have not come into a life of hardship, but into a life full of life and appreciation without exposing them to ignorant people that crush their views and make them question otherwise.
Since Mango got his NG tube, I've had more and more people come to me and ask what is wrong with him. Which doesn't bother me as much if they look like they really care. Some people just stop and stare until we are out of view. Some have the nerve to to blame me, as if I made him that way. Some openly quote that he isn't perfect. All this I can usually take in with a smile and kindly explain to them that Mango has chromosome abnormality and that this is just one of our little obstacles that we need to face but he is otherwise as healthy as he can be.
Except today. Today. I can't seem to stand and smile while you allow the ignorant words flow out of your mouth and cut deep into my heart, while I nod and smile. Today, I will not justify their words to protect my heart. Because today, my heart is giving in to all the hurt and pain.
Dear person that stop me in my tracks to ask about my Mango. You didn't just stop to ask about Mango's NG. You didn't just ask about why he is the way he is. You didn't just tell me that my baby wasn't perfect. You didn't just ask me what I did to him to turn out this way. You even dared to say that you felt sorry for Plum, that he has a sibling with special needs. You did all of the above within two minutes of you standing in front of me.
Mango is perfection. His NG tube, hearing aids, eye patch and all. He, as a whole, is entirely perfect. Everything you see in my kid that you define as not perfect is what makes me think he is so perfectly perfect.
We are all perfect. Just the way we are.
If most of us can see this. Why can't you?
Or
Perfection.
What does it mean? What is perfect? What is it that you see before the word perfection leaves your mouth? What makes you believe that something is perfect?
I don't even know how to begin to start to explain this lump in my throat. This throb in my heart that makes me feel as if I'm about to explode into a million and one pieces. I want to curl up with my children and protect them from everyone that could hurt them.
Right now. This very moment, I would trade anything for this feeling to go.
How do we as parents of such fragile children protect them from people. Protect them from the world that threatens to take more away everyday. How do we protect our children who have special-need siblings that they have not come into a life of hardship, but into a life full of life and appreciation without exposing them to ignorant people that crush their views and make them question otherwise.
Since Mango got his NG tube, I've had more and more people come to me and ask what is wrong with him. Which doesn't bother me as much if they look like they really care. Some people just stop and stare until we are out of view. Some have the nerve to to blame me, as if I made him that way. Some openly quote that he isn't perfect. All this I can usually take in with a smile and kindly explain to them that Mango has chromosome abnormality and that this is just one of our little obstacles that we need to face but he is otherwise as healthy as he can be.
Except today. Today. I can't seem to stand and smile while you allow the ignorant words flow out of your mouth and cut deep into my heart, while I nod and smile. Today, I will not justify their words to protect my heart. Because today, my heart is giving in to all the hurt and pain.
Dear person that stop me in my tracks to ask about my Mango. You didn't just stop to ask about Mango's NG. You didn't just ask about why he is the way he is. You didn't just tell me that my baby wasn't perfect. You didn't just ask me what I did to him to turn out this way. You even dared to say that you felt sorry for Plum, that he has a sibling with special needs. You did all of the above within two minutes of you standing in front of me.
Mango is perfection. His NG tube, hearing aids, eye patch and all. He, as a whole, is entirely perfect. Everything you see in my kid that you define as not perfect is what makes me think he is so perfectly perfect.
We are all perfect. Just the way we are.
If most of us can see this. Why can't you?
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