The search to find out why things didn’t go as planned is something I do all the time. So naturally when I was told our baby may have a disability, I wanted to know why. Why us? Of all the people in the world, why did we have a child with a disability?
I had done everything I was supposed to during the pregnancy. I followed my doctor’s advice, went to all my prenatal exams and read pregnancy books to educate myself. I ate nutritious, wholesome foods. Anything that could potentially harm the baby I avoided, including eliminating caffeine from my diet. I was healthy, young and not in any ‘at-risk’ category. With everything going right for me, why did my baby have a disability?
The search for that answer led me down a dark rabbit hole. It’s amazing how easy it is to find blame. It’s littered everywhere disguised as anybody or anything. But blame is actually another form of denial.
I didn’t want to deal with my real emotions. Delving into them was hard and I was scared of what it might uncover. It was easier and far more comfortable to find something to blame. The truth was I didn’t want my son to have a disability. I was ashamed of that thought. Had I explored my emotions further I would’ve discovered it was the word disability that was problematic.
What I’ve learned
I saw disability as a monster that attacked my son, hurting him and making him suffer. But disability wasn’t something distinct from my son. It was a part of who he is, just like his black hair and effervescent smile. Having a disability didn’t turn him into someone else. He’s the same person he’s always been.
As for why does he have a disability? I don’t know. The search for that answer continues. I’m not sure when I will find it. I know God has the answer and I believe one day He will reveal it to me. Until then, I trust that God has the best intentions for me and my son.