Hmmmm…

Things that make me, a paraplegic, go hmmmm…

Handicapped Placards – Who decides who qualifies for a placard? I have sent in FIVE applications over the past two years and still have NOT gotten a renewed placard. Mine literally expired in March, 2017 and I cannot seem to get one. Yet I constantly see people who hop out of their cars from a handicapped space and stride into stores. I saw a woman come out of Target in 5 inch heels and get into her sports car parked in a handicapped space while I am driving around in my 12 year old, $63,000 Dodge Caravan retrofitted with a ramp, power seats and hand controls trying to find a space that will work for me to get out in my power wheelchair. Hmmmm…

Handicapped Dressing Rooms – Yes, I understand these larger rooms are spacious and prime real estate amidst the smaller rooms. But if you can stand, walk and don’t have children in a stroller, take your possible purchases into one of the many smaller rooms and leave the one large one for someone who actually needs it. This also applies to bathrooms. Because speaking for many people who have paralysis, if you feel you have to pee, you need to pee almost immediately or you will wet your pants. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve almost peed my pants while waiting for someone who just likes a taller toilet and more space to pull up their pants. Hmmmm…

Handicapped Hotel Rooms – Honestly this is one of the most frustrating issues I’ve dealt with over the past 27 years. If I am going away, I immediately begin the search for a “wheelchair accessible” room that includes either a roll in shower or a bath tub with a tub bench. Yet often I arrive to my destination, only to find out there is not an accessible room available any longer. Recently I was told my reservation was simply a request and did not guarantee me a room. I replied that I called the reservation department and not the request department. This hotel then agreed to place me in a room designed for a deaf person but not for a wheelchair. It had flashing lights on the telephone and doorbell but not an accessible bathroom. They also told me that they only had one wheelchair accessible room left but they didn’t know if someone checking in later might need the wheelchair room. Now remember… I am sitting in a wheelchair in front of them at the moment but someone who wasn’t there could possibly need it. But hey… while I couldn’t take a shower, I could do my disco moves to the doorbell. Hmmmm…

Wheelchair Friendly – This is a phrase often used in small print when traveling. It means… if you are in a wheelchair occasionally but can walk, this building might possibly work for you. It’s kinda accessible but not fully. And if you are unable to walk and use a wheelchair 24/7, you’re screwed. Hmmmm…

In Case of Fire – Every time I ride an elevator and see the sign, “In case of fire, don’t use elevator,” I have to shake my head. While I get the theory behind the sign, I have to ask… am I just supposed to stop my chair at the top of the stairs, drop to the ground, and roll down the staircase if a fire ensues above the first floor? Hmmmm…

The Companion Seat – Every theater, show, movie theater or concert seems to have a handicapped seating section nowadays. People in wheelchairs are resigned to sitting in that one small section. But there is often a companion seat next to it. While I am sure it is meant to be thoughtful, it also means that I can never sit with a group of friends or family members whenever I go anywhere special. Apparently the disabled are only allowed one friend! Hmmmm…

Curb Cuts – I am quite certain that it is a job requirement for non wheelchair users to design curb cuts. In busy cities, they are often steep, bumpy, and slightly dangerous but add to it a 20 second count down clock to get up/down and across the street with a throng of hurrying people to make your heart pump a little faster. In NYC and DC, it is quite exciting when you are still crossing when the “walking” time runs out. Driver’s will not wait for your chair to make it across the street before horns start beeping and the “international sign of displeasure” is given. Hmmmm…

These are just a few things that make me shake my head as I venture into the world in a sitting position. I didn’t even mention the things that make me say “hmmmm” that have nothing to do with my life as a paraplegic. Maybe the next blog…

What makes you shake your head?

Not Always Yes

Today my pastor, Pastor Russ Weidel, spoke about prayer and in his message he said that God has four responses to prayer…

YES

NOT YET &

YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME?

He added the fourth somewhat in humor but I found it quite possible, even probable, that sometimes God is shaking His head at our requests. Pastor Russ also said that God does not always say yes to our prayers. He always answers but the answer is not always yes.

It reminded me of when I became paralyzed 27 years ago. As a new wife, new mom, young woman and follower of Christ, I prayed for Jesus to heal me. I prayed that I would be able to wiggle a toe. I prayed that I would be able to lift my leg. I prayed for feeling when the doctors stuck a needle in my leg. I prayed to walk. I prayed for a miracle.

Others prayed for this too. I know many family members, friends, and even strangers prayed that I would walk again. They went to the throne of God on my behalf, asking for a miracle. I look back and am amazed at the people who prayed for me.

After a while I felt like I was letting people down. They would tell me they were praying for me to be healed yet month after month passed and no matter how hard I tried and how much I wanted it, I still wasn’t able to make my brain force my toe to wiggle. It was a terrible feeling which caused me to have many questions and confusions. I doubted if my faith was strong enough. I questioned if I wasn’t trying as hard as I could. I wondered if I had done something wrong and if God was punishing me. I struggled with guilt for not being healed.

But God doesn’t always say yes.

In my case, God did not say yes to those prayers. But that’s not the end of my story. While I have not been healed physically, 27 years later I can clearly see how much He has blessed me and used me as a paraplegic. Paralysis is my story and He always uses our stories beyond what we can imagine.

Instead of walking, God said yes to allowing me to grow closer to Him. Through all of my surgeries, pressure sores, muscle spasms and sleepless nights, God has used those trials to help me draw closer to Him. Nights spent alone in a hospital room caused me to cry out to Him for rest. Times of intense fear caused me to seek Him for comfort. Days struggling with unending pain had me calling to Him for strength beyond my own.

God said yes to giving me an opportunity to share my story with people that I never would have met if I wasn’t in a wheelchair. I have met countless people who are disabled or know someone who is disabled or just are struggling and need someone to talk to about their pain. He has given me a mission field of people who I can reach since I have endured so much physically and emotionally from my paralysis.

God said yes to giving me my deepest desire of more children. I loved my first son and was so grateful for his life but God blessed our family by growing it with a little boy from across the ocean and then surprising us all with a baby girl too. I never expected God to answer my heart’s desire with THREE beautiful children.

God said yes to letting me find humor on tough days. Not every day and every situation is funny, but God has given me a gift to find laughter in the midst of my trials. One day I had a terrible bowel accident when we were at Penn State University for a track meet. I sobbed that day, hating my life and mortified at the embarrassment of such an awful circumstance. But now it makes me laugh because it was the day I met my future son-in-law, Jaiden. (Crappy way to meet someone, huh? See what I did there.)

God said yes to building my character. He has allowed awkward moments, unbelievable situations and some difficult testing of my faith to grow me in many areas. I have grown stronger through my weakness; thankful when it’s hard to find joy; trusting when I am fearful; and dependent when I want to have control. As my pastor said today, God is more concerned about our character than our comfort.

God said yes to so many things which are better than walking. After 27 years of sitting in a wheelchair, peeing through a tube, having accidents at the worst times, enduring spasms that make me cry, experiencing 19 surgeries, countless hospital stays and even being on death’s door a few times, I have learned that sometimes the best gifts come from God “not always saying yes.”

And the best part… I don’t believe God said no to my prayer of walking. I believe He instead has answered with a NOT YET! Because one day I am going to be before God in Heaven and He is going to answer my prayers. He will say ARISE and I will immediately be healed and spend eternity walking down the streets of gold. (Plus racing Zach, pole vaulting with Alex & dancing with Morgan.)

What a glorious day that will be!

Unexpected gifts…

When I was 29 years old…

I had a very high risk pregnancy.

My life could have been at risk during both the pregnancy and delivery.

I had a husband and two small sons at home.

Abortion was suggested to me by my physicians.

I would like to share the story of my last pregnancy. But first you must know… I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I believe in life. I believe life begins at conception.

At age 29, I was a young mom of two little boys and found myself in a situation I never expected. Backing up a bit… at the age of 23, I gave birth to my first son, Zach, and due to complications I became a paraplegic. During surgery they discovered some life threatening issues, including an aneurysm and two spinal AVM’s. The specialists at Columbia University Hospital in NYC did their best to block blood flow to those areas but were not able to block them more than 40%. The paralysis was caused by the extra blood flow from the pregnancy so a future pregnancy would hold a lot of unknowns and possible risks.

After many discussions, we decided that we weren’t ready to take any risks with my life so we chose to adopt our second child. We adopted our second son, Alex, as a three year old from an orphanage in Romania. I can’t lie and say that there weren’t big adjustments, especially for Alex who had left the only life he knew to join a family of strangers in a foreign land but also for Zach who had been our one and only for five years and now had to share his room, his toys and his parents with a brother who didn’t even speak English. But as a family we began to adapt to our new normal and settle into a routine together. As a paraplegic, it took some time for me to acclimate to having two active, busy preschoolers but I truly loved being a mom to these two little ones.

As Alex’s first anniversary with our family approached, I began to notice that I was not feeling well. I had a lot of nausea and even bouts of vomiting. Never giving pregnancy a passing thought, I mentioned it to my friend, Cindy. She asked me if pregnancy was a possibility which I immediately laughed at the notion. Yet as days passed and the symptoms increased, the thought took root in my head. I mentioned it to my husband who promptly drove to Walmart purchasing a double pack of pregnancy tests.

The first test yielded a very faint pink line but it was not very clear one way or the other. The second test was similar. It showed a faint line indicating pregnancy but unlike our first pregnancy, it was not immediately positive. Steve hopped back in the car and back to Walmart for another test in a different brand. He came home with another two pack. This time the line was very obvious that I was indeed pregnant. I took the fourth test just because my insides were freaking out as my brain began to realize what the positive test meant.

This test meant a precious little life was growing inside me. But it also meant an abundance of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

I was overjoyed. I was terrified.

I wanted more children. I didn’t want to leave the two children I already had.

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I didn’t want anyone to know.

I couldn’t wait to have a newborn again. What on earth would I do with a newborn?

I wanted to live. I would give my life for this child.

God blessed me. WHY God?

These thoughts (and many more) were my constant companions. Once reality set in, I began to see various doctors trying to determine what this pregnancy meant for me.

One doctor sat me down and gave me some scary truths. My situation was unknown to all of my specialists. They had not had a situation like mine and were unsure of the complications and risks to my health. I had two children at home and I had to consider them because this was a very high risk pregnancy for me. He laid out the option of an abortion saying that I needed to consider all of my options since there were just so many unknowns. While he did not push it, I knew that it was a suggestion he thought I should seriously consider.

I had gone alone to that appointment. I needed to hear the truth, but I was frightened by all he said. Was I selfish if I had this baby? Would I die and leave my boys alone? What was the right decision? Yet as I left his office, peace settled around my heart and I knew that an abortion was not the answer for me. The peace didn’t remove all of my fears. Some days I would look at the faces of my little boys and just beg God to keep me safe so I could watch them grow up. But the peace gave me the assurance that no matter what happened, God was in control and I could trust Him with not only my life but the life of my unborn baby.

Once the doctors realized that abortion was not going to be an option, it was never mentioned again as they just jumped on board to make this pregnancy go as easily as possible. They still discussed concerns but I felt as though each doctor and nurse I met made it their goal to get both of us to the finish line healthy and whole.

As the pregnancy progressed, I spent numerous hours in one doctor’s office or another. I saw a neurosurgeon for the issues in my spine; I went weekly to my OB/GYN for monitoring; I went weekly to a high risk doctor for ultrasounds and testing; I had to see my urologist (this baby killed my bladder); and my regular doctors who just followed my personal health and my medications. Medications were another big issue because some I absolutely had to have, yet could harm the baby so I opted not to take them despite the added problems it caused me physically.

When I was 34 weeks pregnant, I went in to see my OB who was a believer and very compassionate man. He came in and he asked me how I was feeling and although I am a very strong person, I burst into tears and told him I could not be pregnant for one more second.

I was peeing my pants constantly. I was either constipated or had the runs. I had non stop muscle spasms. I was uncomfortable. I was nauseous. I WAS DONE.

(I also had rowdy four & six year old sons and had just packed and moved our entire home while my husband was out of town for work quite a bit. My rope was getting shorter and shorter and my grip was slipping.)

After an amniocentesis to make sure the baby would be safe, my doctors got together and made a delivery plan. I would deliver my baby (even after weekly ultrasounds, I did not know if it was a boy or girl) by C-Section four weeks early. The neurosurgeon did not feel it was safe to insert an epidural in my spine so I had to be put under general anesthesia for the delivery. The high risk specialist would be in attendance to monitor me while my OB would perform the C-Section.

Moments before I was to go into the operating room, my husband and I prayed together. We were both afraid. I was shaking. But we trusted God. No matter what would happen in the next hour, we had trust that God was writing our story.I knew I made the right choice. This unborn baby who I had yet to meet was as much my child as Zach or Alex and I could never take any of their lives. Even if it meant losing mine.

Praise the Lord my story was not yet over. After I woke up from surgery, I saw my husband standing there with our precious baby girl. Unspeakable joy filled me as I realized that I had two little boys and now a baby girl. My heart wanted to burst with gratitude for surviving the pregnancy and delivery and the realization that my deepest prayers were answered and the desire of my heart was given. Tears filled my eyes as I kissed my husband knowing together we would watch our sweet family grow.

My sons gained a little sister, Morgan, and other than an infection in my body, I was healthy. I did have my tubes tied because I didn’t want to risk my life again. I am still so grateful for these unexpected gifts from God. All three of my kiddos. My three kids-in-law. Realizing how valuable life is. Learning to depend on God. Discovering peace and joy amidst worry and fear. Trusting when your faith is shaky. All unexpected. All gifts.

My story may not be how I would have written it but I have learned to be thankful that God is the author holding the pen.

My story < His glory

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As New York passed the bill this week for full term abortions, I have seen and heard arguments from both sides of the debate. Personally I am deeply saddened by this bill as I value both life and adoption. I do not write my story to debate or argue with anyone but rather to be understanding of how circumstances and life can be frightening. I hope to encourage women to help one another, support one another, love one another. I also hope it encourages you to trust God when you feel hopeless and afraid.

Maybe choice begins with the choice to join our hands with less judgement and more love. Less criticism and more compassion. Less selfishness and more serving. Less guilt and more prayer. Less me and more Jesus.

The day Morgan was born & her big brother’s meeting her. (Steve lost the stache thank goodness!)

Zach, Morgan & Alex on Morgan’s wedding day

Photo by Cross Photography

God knows you and loves you.

No one to kiss but a dog…

My start to 2019 began with the ball dropping on TV and me in bed with my two grand pups. Steve had fallen asleep on the couch and I was tired so went to bed alone. As the clock struck midnight, I hugged El (my little grand pup) and she licked my face. So yep… I kissed a dog to celebrate the entrance of a New Year!

(To save face, we did have friends over but we were all tired so they left at 10:45 pm and my husband did kiss me at 11:30 before he fell asleep on the couch. He had been up at 5:30 am since he worked that day. So that left me alone and smooching the dog!)

The new year is like getting a brand new journal. Fresh and clean and ready for a new story. I always love getting a new writing journal… it’s just waiting to be filled up with a story, thoughts, doodles or prayers. As we begin a new year, it is a time to look back and evaluate our past but also to look forward and plan and dream about a new, fresh start. It’s a time to make changes and resolutions. (And probably break some or all of those resolutions by February 1st.)

Recently I was in a Sunday School class and the teacher (shout out to Joe Kak) spoke about what you would like to resolve (promise to yourself or to God) for 2019. I made a list of some things that I would like to work on in this new year. I don’t want to call them resolutions necessarily because to me those are a bit cliche and easy to break. I also decided not to do the “normal” resolutions like going to the gym every day or no longer eating sugar (which I would like to do except for this little devil called ice cream.)

So for 2019… I resolve to work on…

1. Prayer. This is my #1 because I would like to be a person who says “I will be praying” and mean it. Saying “I will pray for you” has become trite… something we say when someone is struggling or sick or hurting. If I say it, I want you to know that I am truly praying. I want to become a woman who talks to God. All. The. Time.

2. Encouragement. I can tend to get self focused and busy in my own life. Don’t we all?! I think of people often but I want to work on taking it beyond a thought and reach out in action with a note, text, phone call, visit or a gift. Encourage means to inspire, hearten, embolden, fill with confidence… I want to be someone who fills others up.

3. Hospitality. I love people and miss having people in my home. One area I would to change is to let go of my loneliness since becoming an empty nester and invite more people into my home. Admittedly, I do not enjoy cooking but I can be hospitable with a take out pizza. Everyone likes pizza (except gluten and dairy free folks but I usually have lettuce and carrots in the fridge because let’s face it, the cookies get eaten quicker than the carrots). So I would like to fill my home back up with laughter and talking and fellowship.

(Btw… I was just joking and would offer more than lettuce & carrots to my gluten/dairy free friends. Thankfully there are many choices now for those with restrictions.)

Those are my three big ones… a few little ones are…

Sigh less. I drop a lot and therefore sigh a lot. With little balance and sitting in a wheelchair, retrieving things I have dropped is a struggle which leads me to loud and often overly dramatic sighing. I have already failed every day at this but awareness of said sighing has to be some sort of positivity, right? (Be an encourager and agree with me.)

Just today I failed at this as I tried to carry all of my groceries into the house at once and of course, several bags broke as I was going up the ramp and food went rolling everywhere and I could not reach half of it and the other half blocked my entrance into the house. This ended with not only a sigh but me yelling out loud and outside for all the neighbors to hear… “SERIOUSLY!!!“

Look for the positive. Searching for the positive in a world of constant negatives is a habit I want to develop. I want to look for the positive both in people and in situations. Searching for the positive amidst annoying people or during aggravating situations is a goal for 2019.

Living life as a paraplegic creates constant frustrating situations. It also gives you an opportunity to see some very rude people like the woman who recently took the last handicapped parking space, hopped out of her car in high heels, and strutted into Target… can I please have her disability instead? I guess they now give placards for the chronic illness of ignorance.

So I am going to strive to look for the positive. For example… those annoyances give me fodder for my blog.

Establish better habits. Honestly my sleep schedule is out of whack, my diet is irregular and not balanced, my motivation level is low, my house needs organization and I spend too much time on my phone. Oh yeah… and that financial side of life is another area to work on. These are the resolutions that most people break by the end of January. So instead of resolutions, I just want to adjust, be more aware, more disciplined and more intentional in developing some better habits. (Crap… it’s currently 1:13 am so the sleep schedule is still a work in progress too.)

These are a few thing I personally would like to work on for 2019. I know like most resolutions, I will have good and bad days. Some moments I will succeed and some moments I will fail. As I look back at these first days of January, I realize I haven’t succeeded in any of these areas but thankfully tomorrow is a new day and His mercies are fresh every morning! (Lamentations 3:23)

And as the saying goes, I would rather try and fail than fail to try.

What would you like to resolve this year?

My New Year’s Eve date

A recent example of things disabled people have to constantly deal with.

Anyone else relate?

I will start on Monday.

Genius idea!

Happy 2019! Make it a good year!

Sticks & Stones…

Some of my readers do not know my story but I am a paraplegic due to complications after childbirth 26 years ago. In one of my upcoming blogs, I will tell more of that story, but it happened from a congenital defect that I was born with but was unaware of until I ended up unable to walk after my first son’s delivery. But this blog isn’t really about that… that is just setting the stage for tonight’s musings.

This week my youngest child (who is now a married adult) celebrated her birthday. Still wanting to make her a special meal, I went to the grocery store to get the ingredients for her favorite meal (tacos). As I drove, I was reflecting on my journey to being a mother of three “kids.” I hadn’t thought about it for years, but I suddenly remembered something that was said to me shorty after my paralysis which led me to this post.

Always wanting to be a Mom, I had my first son at the age of 23. He was a 9 pound, happy little guy, Zachary Ty. Falling immediately in love with this little life, I was thrilled to be his Mom. I remember those first days of motherhood clearly, counting his fingers and toes; listening to him breath; looking into his bright blue eyes; and even wishing he would wake up.

Immediately after his birth, I knew that I would want another one. For me, childbirth was four hours from start to finish so I knew I would eventually be ready to go through labor and delivery again to have another baby and sibling for Zach.

Unfortunately, like I previously said, there were complications and although the paralysis came about gradually, I was unable to walk within two months of his birth. Doctors were baffled at what was going on so it took months to get any answers. In order to get a proper diagnosis, my neurosurgeon in Reading, PA sent me to a specialist at Columbia University Hospital in Manhattan. Thankfully this doctor finally discovered what caused the paralysis which helped to save my life, but a few years later he told me something that both angered and challenged me yet ultimately impacted my journey into motherhood.

While I did not stay in contact with that particular doctor, I contacted him when Zach was two years old to discuss my options for having a second child. My regular doctors were not familiar enough with my defect to feel confident in saying it was safe for me to go through a pregnancy, labor and delivery again. (My original issue had not been able to be completely repaired so a definite answer was unclear.) Since he was the renown acting head of neurosurgery at a top US hospital, I was unable to speak to him directly. I left a detailed message with one of his nurses, hoping I would hear back from him. Weeks later I did hear from him in the form of a letter.

I still have that letter. Here’s the gist of it…

Since your damage was not completely repaired, it is difficult to say if it is safe to have another child. Currently there is no research to give a definitive answer so my recommendation would be that you do not risk your health by having another child.

That would have been enough of an answer for me except that he added a little bit more.

Besides as a paraplegic, I think it has to be difficult to care for a child from a wheelchair so I think you should be happy that you have one child and focus your attention on trying to raise him with your disability.

Reading those words upset me. While I know this doctor, who was a brilliant yet kind man, never meant anything negative with his words, it still hurt my feelings. I already felt insecure in my ability as a mom because life with a two year old was difficult. The adorable little stinker had run away from me or darted out of my reach several times so I had moments of uncertainty in my abilities to raise a child from a wheelchair.

After I had time to process the letter and came to the conclusion that all two year olds are difficult, whether you are a mom who is paralyzed or a mom who walks, my stubborn streak kicked in and I decided…

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

No one was going to tell me that paralysis could or should stop me from being a mom to one, two or twenty kids!

With my new mindset, I was ready to try for baby #2…. or was I? Instead I found myself nervous and unsure if it was the right decision, questioning if it was foolish to risk my health to have another child; wondering if I could die leaving my husband and son alone; worried that more complications could arise and leave me in a worse situation than paralysis; or even if I would have the ability to raise another child as a paraplegic. Meanwhile, my stubborn side kept gnawing at me that I could do it, despite the concerns and fears of others. The question was… which was the right voice?

Thankfully Jesus intervened and showed me that there are many paths to motherhood. He completely guided Steve and I into international adoption and made it obvious that it was His plan for adding to our little family. (Another amazing story for another day.) When Zach was five years old, we adopted an almost 3 year old little guy from Romania, Alexandru Benjamin. Since I had immediately loved Zach, I prayed I would love my new son as easily. Every mom hopes that there is enough love in their heart for another child. Well I can truthfully say, there is plenty of room. One look into his big, sad brown eyes and I was a goner! I immediately and easily loved my new son.

Despite language barriers, emotional needs and a few discipline issues, it did not take Alex long to acclimate to his new world or Zach to adapt to his new role as a big brother. As for me, while I had moments of mom fails, I was settling into raising two active little guys. We kept busy going to the local pool, taking long walks, going on adventures around town and even having play dates. Unbelievably I even babysat a few other little boys, proving to myself that I could care for children from a wheelchair. Patting myself on the back, I was proudly proving that doctor wrong.

Months after Alex came home from across the globe, I began to get sick frequently. Loving my stay-at-home mom role, caring for my husband and two sons, it was frustrating to feel sick to my stomach often. It put a damper on our activities since I needed to run (or wheel quickly) to the bathroom and didn’t want to be too far from home. Finding out I was pregnant was a complete shock as well as a blow to my current state of contentment. Fear wrapped itself around both my heart and brain, allowing worry to settle in and doubts to crop up! How could I manage a high risk pregnancy along with my other health issues while continuing to raise two energetic boys? And how on earth would I manage a newborn, a preschooler and a first grader?

Honestly I don’t know how I managed it. But somehow I did! Giving birth to my beautiful, sweet 8 pound daughter, Morgan Elizabeth, is a miracle story in itself. Months of weekly doctor’s appointments paid off when both of us came through the C-section healthy without any unexpected complications (other than a nurse breaking my wheelchair after driving it into a wall). Growing our family from one child to three children in 18 months was not in our plan but thankfully God is wiser because I love my three children and their three unique stories of life.

Raising three children was indeed taxing on me physically and emotionally. I had many surgeries, hospital stays and health concerns while they were growing up. Many days I was exhausted, weary and lacking. Often I lost my patience, yelled too much and even said some naughty words.

Sometimes I thought back on the words of that doctor, knowing that I was much more than a paraplegic. I was a wife. A mom. A daughter. A sister. A friend.

So yes, it is true… I have physical limitations! As a mom of young kids, I could not kick a soccer ball when they wanted to practice at home; I could not swim laps in the pool on a hot summer day; I could not ride a bicycle through the neighborhood in the dusk of the evenings; I could not hike through trails with them to enjoy the crisp, fall air; I could not give “under ducky’s” to make the swing go higher and faster; I could not…; I could not… that list can go on and on of things I was unable to do with my children. And that does make me sad if I dwell on it. I wish I could have experienced those activities with my kiddos.

But was that doctor right? I don’t think so… I do not believe my limitations hindered my ability to be a mom. I hope that instead my children think back on their childhood and remember having dance parties in the dark to loud, thumping music; snuggling on my bed reading book after book; catching fireflies on summer evenings; throwing rocks and sticks into the creek to see how big the water would splash; doing crafts around the dining room table; riding on the back of my wheelchair as fast as it could go to the bus stop; or looking into the crowd and seeing that I was cheering them on at every game, concert, meet or recital. So while I may worry sometimes that they were jipped out of a normal childhood, I pray they know they were loved unconditionally and constantly by a mom who sat 24/7.

So my encouragement to myself and hopefully to others…

* Don’t let someone else’s words or opinions be a manacle around you, stopping you from pursuing something great. Instead use them as fuel to move forward, jumping over every hurdle in your path.

* Watch your words. Use them to encourage and spur on, not to tear down, belittle or hurt. The phrase “sticks and stones” is a lot of malarkey. Words are impactful and often get repeated as a mantra in one’s head. Let your words be a positive melody and not a negative clanging.

* Instead of letting challenges limit you, use them to build your character, your strength, your faith!

* Don’t focus on what you can’t do. Focus on the I can’s!

* And most importantly don’t let fear stop you from living a life of love and joy. Give it to God. Trust me, He’s got you!

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Lastly… I did have my tubes tied because while I wanted to prove that doctor wrong, I am not a fool! Three children was plenty for this paraplegic!