When I was pregnant with my first child (K-Oz, who is now 11), we decided not to find out if we were having a boy or a girl. We wanted to enjoy the mystery of not knowing.
People would ask “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?” and I’d always reply that I’d take whatever God sent to us. Often that comment would be followed by the other person replying “Oh sure, as long as the baby’s healthy.”
I would think long and hard on that statement. I decided eventually that I didn’t like that statement because I would love this child with every ounce of my being whether he or she was perfectly healthy or was born with something wrong with them.
When I prayed for a child, I never asked for a whole, perfect child, I simply asked for a child – one that would be imprinted upon my heart.
Right after our son was born (surprise! It was a boy!) there was another young couple who had a son a couple of months later. He was born with severe craniofacial deformities and other serious problems. She told me later that nothing had shown up on the ultrasound or any of the blood tests. They had no idea there was a problem with their baby – but they loved him dearly.
Now, my son has problems that weren’t evident when he was born. Other people might see him and wonder at his strange and irrational behaviors, but I only see my beloved son. Sure, he might have a few glitches here and there – but hey, who doesn’t?
Just because K-Oz doesn’t fit into the world’s idea of “normal” doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with him.
I know other parents who have children with no disabilities or problems see parents of special needs kids as sad. But I prefer to think that God entrusted these special, precious children to the parents best suited to care for and love them.