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Featured Contributor Tina Marie McGrevy
He's the Same Baby
by Tina Marie McGrevy
The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands. -Robert M. Pirsig
"He's the same baby he was this morning," our pediatrician told me as I held you tighter than tight. "Your son was born with Smith-Magenis syndrome," he continued as he looked over the lab results. His voice sounded far away as I heard the words "mental retardation and autistic behaviors." No! I wanted to scream. That's not my baby. This morning, he was so smart. He was going to wave at me from the kindergarten bus and ignore me from the middle-school bus stop. He was going to be the high-school valedictorian. He was going to graduate from medical school some day.
"He's the same baby he was last Sunday," our preacher told me as I rocked you in the pew. "You are just learning about your son, but God has known him all along." You're wrong! I wanted to shout. That's not my baby. Last Sunday, he was so pleasant. He was going to be an altar boy and light the candles. He was going to lead the youth group on mission trips. He was going to graduate from the seminary himself some day.
"He's the same baby he was last year," our family told me as I blew out your two candles. "He still has your eyes and Daddy's smile." That's not true! I wanted to cry. That's not my baby. Last year, he was so strong and beautiful. He was going to be a star athlete and the most popular boy. He was going to marry a girl just like me some day.
"He's the same baby we brought home from the hospital," your daddy told me as I lay you down in your crib. But this is not what I had dreamed for you.
You are my baby boy, but I will never lose my voice from cheering at your Little League game. Instead, I will shout when you learn to walk without your leg braces. You are my child, but you will never be the class president. Instead, you will have fewer friends, but they will all be true friends. You are my firstborn, but I will never drive away from your dorm room with tears in my eyes. Instead, I will be sobbing when it takes an hour to leave Children's Hospital because you must hug every child in a wheelchair. You are my son, but you will never be the father of my grandchildren. Instead, you will be their favorite uncle who still believes in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. It seems everyone was right. You are the same baby. But I am not the same mother.
Tina McGrevy and her husband, Charlie, live in Springfield, Ohio, with their three sons: Garrett, diagnosed in 2001 with SMS, Patrick, and Brennan. Now in second grade, Garrett is reading at a level that seemed impossible six years ago. As Garrett's speech skills improve, a talented comedian with a unique sense of humor has emerged. Tina has a degree in education, but enjoys staying home with the boys and writing about their adventures. She dreams of following in the footsteps of another Ohio Valley mother, Erma Bombeck."
To learn more about Smith Magenis Syndrome please visit www.prisms.org
by Tina Marie McGrevy
The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands. -Robert M. Pirsig
"He's the same baby he was this morning," our pediatrician told me as I held you tighter than tight. "Your son was born with Smith-Magenis syndrome," he continued as he looked over the lab results. His voice sounded far away as I heard the words "mental retardation and autistic behaviors." No! I wanted to scream. That's not my baby. This morning, he was so smart. He was going to wave at me from the kindergarten bus and ignore me from the middle-school bus stop. He was going to be the high-school valedictorian. He was going to graduate from medical school some day.
"He's the same baby he was last Sunday," our preacher told me as I rocked you in the pew. "You are just learning about your son, but God has known him all along." You're wrong! I wanted to shout. That's not my baby. Last Sunday, he was so pleasant. He was going to be an altar boy and light the candles. He was going to lead the youth group on mission trips. He was going to graduate from the seminary himself some day.
"He's the same baby he was last year," our family told me as I blew out your two candles. "He still has your eyes and Daddy's smile." That's not true! I wanted to cry. That's not my baby. Last year, he was so strong and beautiful. He was going to be a star athlete and the most popular boy. He was going to marry a girl just like me some day.
"He's the same baby we brought home from the hospital," your daddy told me as I lay you down in your crib. But this is not what I had dreamed for you.
You are my baby boy, but I will never lose my voice from cheering at your Little League game. Instead, I will shout when you learn to walk without your leg braces. You are my child, but you will never be the class president. Instead, you will have fewer friends, but they will all be true friends. You are my firstborn, but I will never drive away from your dorm room with tears in my eyes. Instead, I will be sobbing when it takes an hour to leave Children's Hospital because you must hug every child in a wheelchair. You are my son, but you will never be the father of my grandchildren. Instead, you will be their favorite uncle who still believes in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. It seems everyone was right. You are the same baby. But I am not the same mother.
Tina McGrevy and her husband, Charlie, live in Springfield, Ohio, with their three sons: Garrett, diagnosed in 2001 with SMS, Patrick, and Brennan. Now in second grade, Garrett is reading at a level that seemed impossible six years ago. As Garrett's speech skills improve, a talented comedian with a unique sense of humor has emerged. Tina has a degree in education, but enjoys staying home with the boys and writing about their adventures. She dreams of following in the footsteps of another Ohio Valley mother, Erma Bombeck."
To learn more about Smith Magenis Syndrome please visit www.prisms.org
