“He should have access to his voice at all times,” she wrote. Out of context, it would be hard to know what to make of a statement like this, but I think most of us would be inclined to think it is correct, or good advice, or at least true as an aspiration. Unfortunately, in this case, it was more like a weapon. I should have expected it. After all, the internet seems to spawn a whole population of individuals
I used to think that when people had children with severe disabilities, it would be something detected in the womb, or shortly after birth—that it would be obvious that something was wrong. But this was not at all the case with our son, Asa. Asa is the third of three boys. He was born after a mere two hours of labor, a big healthy baby weighing 10lbs exactly. I remember a hospital staff member saying, “Congratulations—you have a toddler!” For
Not long after I recorded the “Going Out” OHS Podcast episode, we decided to go to the beach as a family. Despite just talking about the very topic—how difficult it is to do family activities with Asa—I was still, somehow, unprepared. We went to a lovely, clean little beach that is a mere 45-minute drive from our home. I’m beginning this piece on my phone as I sit in my parked minivan with Asa, and this is my view. You’d
I used to joke that I had no idea how to wean a child without being pregnant with another one. Our oldest was nearly two when, in the second trimester with his younger brother, my body shifted its focus to the baby. My milk supply dwindled, and my son lost interest. It worked out brilliantly, without requiring me to take a tough stand. This was especially a relief because we have always called breastfeeding “boobies,” and our oldest was an
I made it ten years as a mother before I had to clean poop off of a wall. This isn’t a bad record considering we’ve had no break from changing diapers for the past decade. After all, many children go through a poop-smearing baby/toddler phase, and this is one gross habit my kids never got into—though there are plenty of others! A single, isolated poop-cleaning episode during year eleven of my marriage would not in itself be a noteworthy event—especially
Our son, Asa, turned five this week. The best picture I could manage of him (and his Covid hair) with his cake is this one. Here is what is going on in this picture: Asa does not know he is turning five. He does not know what a birthday is. He does not know what “five” is. He does not know what a number is. Asa has no idea the object on the table is a cake. However, like every
