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You are here: Home / Blog / Disabled Parenting / An Open Letter to Mothers of Disabled Children

An Open Letter to Mothers of Disabled Children

May 9, 2019 by Erin Andrews 5 Comments

As a disabled mother, I can’t help but reflect sometimes on my own entrance into the world. As a member of several online (primarily nondisabled) parenting groups, I find myself triggered by social media posts about babies born disabled or young children being diagnosed with disabilities. As a way to process my own emotions, I decided to write this letter. It is a letter I wish my own birthmother could have had, and I something hope new mothers of disabled children will read.

White woman with brown hair with one arm holding a white baby with brown hair who also has one arm and no legs.

Author as a baby held by family friend Lynn Navarro, an adult with the same congenital disability

Dear Mom,

I know you’re confused and scared. I don’t look exactly like you expected. The doctors tell you I’m deformed, that I’m defective. You are supposed to be devastated. Don’t be. Look at me – touch me. Suspend judgment while you explore my tiny new self. Notice how the contours and folds of skins are uniquely mine. I came from you – you made me, and I’m perfect.

As you observe yourself having unpleasant and distressing thoughts and feelings, refrain from criticizing yourself. Realize those ideas about disability are not yours alone – they are the product of the world and society in which you have lived. Later, you will remember this time as the beginning of your journey into a different culture, one where the social order is a bit different than what you’re used to. You don’t know it yet, but you will meet people along the way that will radically change the way you think about bodies, brains, wellbeing, and life.

Right now you’re hearing only what a burden I’ll be, all the care I’ll need, and the many things I won’t be able to do. Don’t listen. You’ll figure out exactly what I need in time – you’re my mom. Take all the pictures of me and get some of us together. You’ll want to have these to show me when I’m older so you can tell me how special those first few moments were. To the people saying “I’m sorry” – tell them, “don’t be.” Say, “piss off” to people’s condolences.

Tell them I am exactly what you were expecting – a baby. I’m the same baby who has been growing inside you these months, the one you conceived out of love, and whose arrival you’ve been eagerly anticipating. Why would they tell you that you need to mourn?  Instead, celebrate my new life and the growth of our family.

Soon you will know me fully. You will learn that the difficulties we face will have very little to do with my disability and so much more to do with the attitudes of others and the lack of adequate resources for disabled people. You’ll be angry, and you’ll turn into an advocate. Some people will try to minimize my disability and say that I have “special needs,” or that I’m “differently abled.” You’ll know that’s ridiculous, because you are aware of both my limitations and those imposed on me by others, and you won’t sugarcoat it. You’ll be connected to the disability community and you won’t avoid calling me what I am – disabled. You’ve seen pride in disability identity and you hope that someday I’ll feel it too.

You won’t ever regret having me or keeping me, I promise.  Your nurturing acceptance will provide me a strong sense of self. As a result of your unconditional regard, I will come to love and trust myself. You will look back on this time and appreciate the people who said “congratulations” and meant it. You’ll just as authentically say that you wouldn’t trade me for the world and that you wouldn’t change a single thing about me. Because, mom… you already love me exactly the way I am.

Love,

Your (proud) disabled child

Little blonde white girl with no legs and one arm playing with a big pink ball

Author as a little girl

Young nondisabled brunette girl playing with blue ball

Author’s own little girl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To the Adoptive Moms: You didn’t save us. We give you as much as you’ve provided us, and you’d be the first to say that. You chose us and you didn’t try to change us. That kind of love is a true gift. I love you, mom!

Author as a child with her adoptive mom and disabled brother

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Filed Under: Disabled Parenting

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About Erin Andrews

Dr. Erin Andrews serves as a parent advisor and co-researcher for the DPP. She is a board certified rehabilitation psychologist and her areas of interest are disability as diversity, disability culture and identity development, social justice in sexuality, reproduction, and parenting, and disability in post-secondary education. Erin has published and presented nationally on a wide range of disability topics and holds positions with the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs and the University of Texas Dell Medical School. Erin is married with two grown stepchildren and two young children; they live in Austin, Texas.

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. AvatarLynn Navarro says

    May 9, 2019 at 6:20 pm

    So very proud of you! You are an amazing woman!!💟

    Reply
  2. AvatarJo Elwood says

    May 9, 2019 at 11:33 pm

    I am proud to count you as friend. Wonderful letter we all can learn from.

    Reply
  3. AvatarJulia Fine says

    May 10, 2019 at 4:14 pm

    Thank you! Happy Mother’s Day.

    Reply
  4. AvatarBlair Lynn Sprouse says

    May 11, 2019 at 2:43 am

    Thank you for sharing this beautiful letter.

    Reply
  5. AvatarTabitha says

    December 5, 2019 at 2:28 am

    Thank you for this. I wish my amazing mother could have read this after or before she had me. My mother had two daughters with two extremely different disabilities and when I was pregnant my doctor done extensive research on my family’s history. He told me that my mother had won the genetic lottery not once but twice. I’m legally blind with an extremely rare eye disease (they didn’t have a name for my eye disease until I was twelve and had seen every eye doctor/specialist in my state) and my sister was born with a rare version of nerve deafness. My mother ended up getting a divorce and becoming a single mother in the late eighties early nineties. She went back to school and had two jobs.. she did all of that to make our lives better and because it was extremely expensive raising two special needs children. She never once treated us as if we were disabled and she was our biggest advocate. She taught us that being different is a special and that the only handicap was a bad attitude. Now I’m the mother of two beautiful children and they both perfectly healthy. I am lucky that I had such an amazing mother and we are extremely close. She’s my best friend and my hero. I just wanted to share a little bit of my story and to thank you for this article because it brought me to tears. Happy tears of course!!

    Reply

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