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Featured Contributor Pam Wilson
Heroes in Our Family
by Pam Wilson
There are some moments that we never forget, in days that would otherwise have been quite ordinary. When I heard that my younger sister was pregnant with her first beautiful daughter, that news transformed her in my mind from who she had been when I was eight years old, to who she would be for the rest of our lives.
When I was pregnant with my son, my mother and I took my sister's developing relationship with my daughter as evidence of her potential to become the wonderful mother she turned out to be. This was fortified by my sister's instant connection with my son when he was born; the effort she made to find information and resources about his diagnosis, early intervention for babies with disabilities; the encouragement and patience she showed me; and the continuing mutual admiration society between her and my daughter.
All three of my nieces have been fortunate to have such a great mom; my own two children have been lucky to have her as an aunt. She has carried me through some of my most troubled times, helping pull out potential that neither of us suspected we ever had until the chips were down. I wish that our children had grown up in adjoining neighborhoods as I had with my cousins.
Not all the anxiety and confusion I felt in my son's early weeks was about his diagnosis and future. The week before my son was born, a terrible incident occurred in Beirut, Lebanon when a truck bomb killed 220 Marines, 18 Navy personnel and 3 Army soldiers. That whole week I felt a heaviness in my heart for their families, especially the mothers who lost the sweet brave sons who signed up to go into the most dangerous parts of the world, and were murdered in their sleep.
When my obstetrician told me I had given birth to a son, my thoughts flew again to those other mothers, and I felt anguish that my own baby boy could grow up to be a soldier, sailor or Marine who would go into harm's way. I had no thought of such things when his sister was brand new; times have changed since then. That intense surge of immeasurable love I felt when I first felt his fuzzy little head on my cheek had that certainty of grief in it.
When I was told they suspected my boy had Down syndrome less than a day later, my first thought was, "I guess he won't be a Marine." That gave me no comfort. In my mind I had already accepted that as a man he might make decisions that would make me as anxious, and proud, as those other mothers must have felt when their sons enlisted.
For the first hours of my baby boy's life I had considered that possible future, and no diagnosis could take that away. The surprising well of pride I felt that he might make that choice made hearing his diagnosis more painful, even though I had dreaded that possibility.
This was a new complication of motherhood for me, bringing a son into the world; and it was a world that seemed to change with those truck bombs, that also targeted French paratroopers stationed there, killing 58. I felt that terrorists had declared war on my family; reaching back to my French great grandparents, and that this war would reach far into my children's future.
The first time my son went to the Washington State Special Olympics Summer Games at Fort Lewis was in 2001. Part of the event featured autograph booths where S.O. athletes could meet sports and entertainment stars, and I discovered my son was very interested in collecting autographs.
But he passed each official booth by, and walked up to any soldier helping out with or visiting the event, and asked for their autographs. Those soldiers were happy to have their pictures taken with him - men and women.
He treasured that little book when we came home, and kept them in our thoughts and prayers. Of course by the next summer, after 9/11, the world had changed again. That day could have gone on being ordinary, but it never will be again. In the past few years, several of my son's mainstream classmates have signed up to serve in the military, and my daughter's friends, too.
It seems as though those who showed the greatest friendship and acceptance of my son, who I believed would be his greatest resources in the community in his adult life, are those who have put themselves in harm's way.
I thought they would be here to protect and encourage him, as coworkers and neighbors, store clerks and medical support, as casual friends and mutual caregivers. We never know the paths our children will take in life, or who will be in their lives as adults; no matter what our expectations may be, we will be taken by surprise.
Last week, my sister told me that my beautiful and accomplished firstborn niece has signed up for the Marines.
In just a few weeks she will begin training, in preparation for being sent to the most dangerous parts of the world, in an effort to protect our family and country, and I think also to test her own potential. I know most of my tears come from how proud I feel, and how much I love her, rather than fear. Some of them fall for her younger sisters and especially her mom, my own little sister, and our whole family.
Her decision has transformed her mother and all of us who love her from who we were when she was born, to who we will be for the rest of our lives. Please keep all of us in your prayers, and every military family; while our loved ones are away, and when they come home to us again.
by Pam Wilson
There are some moments that we never forget, in days that would otherwise have been quite ordinary. When I heard that my younger sister was pregnant with her first beautiful daughter, that news transformed her in my mind from who she had been when I was eight years old, to who she would be for the rest of our lives.
When I was pregnant with my son, my mother and I took my sister's developing relationship with my daughter as evidence of her potential to become the wonderful mother she turned out to be. This was fortified by my sister's instant connection with my son when he was born; the effort she made to find information and resources about his diagnosis, early intervention for babies with disabilities; the encouragement and patience she showed me; and the continuing mutual admiration society between her and my daughter.
All three of my nieces have been fortunate to have such a great mom; my own two children have been lucky to have her as an aunt. She has carried me through some of my most troubled times, helping pull out potential that neither of us suspected we ever had until the chips were down. I wish that our children had grown up in adjoining neighborhoods as I had with my cousins.
Not all the anxiety and confusion I felt in my son's early weeks was about his diagnosis and future. The week before my son was born, a terrible incident occurred in Beirut, Lebanon when a truck bomb killed 220 Marines, 18 Navy personnel and 3 Army soldiers. That whole week I felt a heaviness in my heart for their families, especially the mothers who lost the sweet brave sons who signed up to go into the most dangerous parts of the world, and were murdered in their sleep.
When my obstetrician told me I had given birth to a son, my thoughts flew again to those other mothers, and I felt anguish that my own baby boy could grow up to be a soldier, sailor or Marine who would go into harm's way. I had no thought of such things when his sister was brand new; times have changed since then. That intense surge of immeasurable love I felt when I first felt his fuzzy little head on my cheek had that certainty of grief in it.
When I was told they suspected my boy had Down syndrome less than a day later, my first thought was, "I guess he won't be a Marine." That gave me no comfort. In my mind I had already accepted that as a man he might make decisions that would make me as anxious, and proud, as those other mothers must have felt when their sons enlisted.
For the first hours of my baby boy's life I had considered that possible future, and no diagnosis could take that away. The surprising well of pride I felt that he might make that choice made hearing his diagnosis more painful, even though I had dreaded that possibility.
This was a new complication of motherhood for me, bringing a son into the world; and it was a world that seemed to change with those truck bombs, that also targeted French paratroopers stationed there, killing 58. I felt that terrorists had declared war on my family; reaching back to my French great grandparents, and that this war would reach far into my children's future.
The first time my son went to the Washington State Special Olympics Summer Games at Fort Lewis was in 2001. Part of the event featured autograph booths where S.O. athletes could meet sports and entertainment stars, and I discovered my son was very interested in collecting autographs.
But he passed each official booth by, and walked up to any soldier helping out with or visiting the event, and asked for their autographs. Those soldiers were happy to have their pictures taken with him - men and women.
He treasured that little book when we came home, and kept them in our thoughts and prayers. Of course by the next summer, after 9/11, the world had changed again. That day could have gone on being ordinary, but it never will be again. In the past few years, several of my son's mainstream classmates have signed up to serve in the military, and my daughter's friends, too.
It seems as though those who showed the greatest friendship and acceptance of my son, who I believed would be his greatest resources in the community in his adult life, are those who have put themselves in harm's way.
I thought they would be here to protect and encourage him, as coworkers and neighbors, store clerks and medical support, as casual friends and mutual caregivers. We never know the paths our children will take in life, or who will be in their lives as adults; no matter what our expectations may be, we will be taken by surprise.
Last week, my sister told me that my beautiful and accomplished firstborn niece has signed up for the Marines.
In just a few weeks she will begin training, in preparation for being sent to the most dangerous parts of the world, in an effort to protect our family and country, and I think also to test her own potential. I know most of my tears come from how proud I feel, and how much I love her, rather than fear. Some of them fall for her younger sisters and especially her mom, my own little sister, and our whole family.
Her decision has transformed her mother and all of us who love her from who we were when she was born, to who we will be for the rest of our lives. Please keep all of us in your prayers, and every military family; while our loved ones are away, and when they come home to us again.
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Biography Welcome to the SoulSupporter.com website. I am glad you are here. You may feel the weight of the world on your shoulders today, or you may just want to be among others who understand the joy, pride, absurdity and delight we do still know, without having to explain it to those who believe those emotional states must be a contradiction in families like ours. It seems as though all of my mothering life has gone on while I was a bit off balance, caught up in the small details of the day when I meant for it to be a well planned and slightly controlled journey toward reasonable and specific goals. The self image I had grown from being a university student, holding substantial jobs, seeking justice and equity, and socializing with my peers, seemed to fall away when I first held my daughter and felt her breath on my skin. The world seemed to see me as a different person, like I was born into a second and unequal new life, but I did not have much time to think about that, because I was fascinated by the number of questions and concerns I had that were not among the priorities I stacked up before she was born. I scarcely knew who I was, and wanted to know everything about who my daughter might be, and how to do everything 'just right' so she would reach her "highest potential." But I was very uncertain how to bathe her, and her adventures with fingernails and my clipping them were beyond my abilities to tolerate or comprehend. My childbirth education instructor saved my life when I asked her whether my daughter was 'colicky' and she told me, "No, not if she ever smiles." Being deliriously in love with my baby and totally fascinated by every expression, sound and movement she made helped get me through the hardest times. My education and work experience, not so much. When I was pregnant with my second child, I thought I'd learned enough to avoid the uncertainties and worries I felt when his sister was a newborn. But instead of a 'natural' birth, he had to be delivered via C-section. And he came with an extra chromosome. He developed jaundice, so he could not 'room in' with me. I dragged myself down to the nursery because I needed to touch and hold him, and when I picked him up found he was attached by wires to a heart monitor. It has only gone downhill, and then up, and then down again, and up, from there. No matter where you are right now, I'm glad you have found SoulSupporter.com, and I hope you will share your story with us, here. Special Needs Children Help and Information http://www.bellaonline.com/site/specialneedschildren The Special Needs Children website at BellaOnline.com offers information, resources and support for families raising children with special needs, developmental disabilities or delays, chronic health conditions and physical challenges. Articles also reflect the interests and concerns of advocates, teachers and other education professionals, medical support staff, human services and emergency response personnel, design professionals, community activists, friends, neighbors and extended family. Pam Wilson's articles have appeared in Northwest Baby and Child, Mothering Magazine, and the Northwest Ethnic News. She is a graduate of the University of California, Berkeley. |
Other Stories from Pam:
A Day at the Park
When my children were very small, I would sometimes need to strap one in a carrier and put the other in a stroller to escape to the playground of our neighborhood park.
read more...