You wouldn't think that sentence would be such a hard one to write, but it is.
Even just typing those words fills my fingertips with lead.
Why?
Because when I type that sentence, when I say it out loud, even when I think it, I know you're going to have an opinion about it.
About whether I can.
About whether I should.
About whether it would be too hard.
Well, can I?
Yes, as far as I know. I haven't been going around trying to get pregnant lately, so I could be wrong about that.... but physically, I am equipped to create a child. Carrying one may be difficult, and I may have to make changes to the way I move in order to do that safely.... but I can tell you right now, even before having met my child that he or she is worth any temporary discomfort I might endure during pregnancy. Even if I had to eat a special diet, wear adult diapers, and be on 9 months of bed rest... I wouldn't care if it meant that I could have a little boy with my Daddy's kind eyes, or a girl with my Mama's smile. Or a niece or nephew for Uncle Matthew. I would spare no expense; I wouldn't care about my body changing forever... about having less bladder control or more scars. I mean, really? What are a few more...
As long as I find the right man to help me make and raise my own children...and as long as God allows us to bear children... there is never any doubt in my head as to whether I will have them.
And if I can't have children, I would still want to adopt. Even if it meant moving home to be near family for support. Even if it meant changing jobs, changing locations, and learning how to raise a child on my own with the proper supports.
I know adoption is hard for everyone. I realize that I might have a harder road as an individual with a disability. But I also know that nothing beats a failure but a try... And I won't know unless I try.
Well, should I try?
Now, there's an issue of contested debate. Everyday people I don't even know make assumptions about what I can and can't do. Or what I should and shouldn't do.
Everyone has an opinion. You never know the assumptions that others make about your abilities until they reveal themselves. When I was in high school, for example, I discovered that at least a few of my classmates assumed that I couldn't use the restroom alone, simply because I always had at least one classmate accompany me when I went on a bathroom break.
What teenage girl wants to go into a public restroom alone?? And how does one gather from my restroom trips with my best friend that I can't toilet independently?
One gathers that information by making assumptions.
Well, although teenagers might be more apt to assume than adults, the assumptions don't just evaporate with age.
At least twice a week someone picking me up from work assumes that I was there to collect food stamps, or that I work in the food court downstairs.
Now don't misunderstand. There would be nothing wrong if either of those scenarios were true. But why do they assume that instead of working for DC government in a full time professional job, the blonde girl with armbraces MUST be at the government building instead to pick up her food stamps?
Because that is what many people do. They look at me and assume. And I know that at least some of those same people assuming that I'm on food stamps definitely don't think I should have a baby.
They would call me selfish. They would call my child doomed. If you don't think this is true, just do a quick google search. Even today, in 2014, people with disabilities have children ripped away from them by child protective services before they even leave the hospital. Because someone somewhere assumes.
Let me tell you something about most parents with disabilities I know. They didn't just wake up one day and say, "Oh, I think I'll have a baby." No. That's not how it works for us. Why?
Because we know it's hard. We know people assume. We know that life as a parent for us isn't discussed in detail in "What to Expect When You're Expecting."
No decision I've ever made (except for the one to buy a $50 DVD player with my ex at midnight in a best buy in DC) has been a complete impulse.
I think about everything I do. My parents might argue that assertion a little; but they know the weeks of thought I put into new endeavors, especially anything physical. And I have already started researching for my future child.
I haven't met her daddy yet, but that doesn't matter. I can tell you about some of the best books for parents with disabilities; some of the best equipment and baby gear reviewed by my peers; adaptive parenting classes in my area and doctors somewhat versed in disability; the benefits of water birth, hospital vaginal birth, and c section for a woman with spastic cp.
Not only that, but I live in an area where I'm proud to say I know many mothers with disabilities. People I can go to for advice, for support, and for guidance. Moms who have been through the sleepless nights both pre and post pregnancy, who've dealt with the effects of baby on an already different body, and who face more assumptions and stereotypes everyday than I'm familiar with.
I know motherhood will be hard. There will be things I don't like, that I know I'll want to give back already: the endless laundry, the two am feedings, learning how to chase a toddler who will probably outrun me. The looks I know I'll get from people who just don't understand.
But I'll tell you right now; the minute I hold my child for the first time. The minute I see her face. When I hear her cry. When I hear her call me 'Mama...' Those moments are worth more than any amount of sleep or any pile of laundry.
My child is already so loved, so wanted, and so anticipated that I will stop at nothing to make sure her childhood is as happy, fulfilled and loving as any on Earth.
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