The Birthday Party

After Claire was born and doctors suspected something was wrong, our minds were instantly consumed with what life would be like for her from a medical standpoint. As doctors struggle to put a name to her diagnosis, we constantly repeat the same history...the same statistics....the same list of meds...the same list of missed milestones. Somewhere in the midst of those clinical hours, you build up an emotional wall from keeping those same grim lists from hurting so much each time you think about them. Patrick said it perfectly one time - "Sometimes, I feel like we are her caregivers and not her parents."

Behind that emotional wall is the acceptance that your child won't have the same social experience that you grew up with. Looking back on our childhoods, many of our memories involve our friends. What would the memories look like for a child who can't even speak or walk? This weekend proved that those disabilities do not have to dictate a different childhood.

Claire was invited to a classmate's birthday party.

I will be honest - I cried when I opened the invitation. Then, I cried some more as I e-mailed the mom to explain that Claire in in a wheelchair, but I wanted her to participate in the party at the jumpy place (in case she didn't know Claire). Would it be ok if I stayed? It is hard to find a babysitter on a Saturday morning, so also needed to bring my other two kiddos. She probably thought I was nuts. I cried some more when she instantly wrote back asking what she could do to help Claire feel more included.

Walking into the party, I was a wreck. As much as I wanted Claire to participate, I did not want to face the awkward moments of trying to explain why she couldn't jump or say "Happy Birthday" or eat with everyone.

There were no awkward moments.

Every single child who was there from her class ran up to say hello. Some kids asked Luke to go play, and the grandparents instantly offered to take Aubrey so I could help Claire jump. After I clumsily pulled Claire through the little-kid-sized opening into the jumpy castle, we were surrounded by her classmates. "Hey! Look! Claire gets to jump!!" one little girl said, and "Oh, your Claire's mom - we play with her at school!" said another little boy.

For those few hours, I wasn't Claire's caregiver. I was the parent of a little girl at a birthday party having fun with her friends.

Best. Feeling. Ever.