All About "Lefty": Super Duper

I want to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to come to this blog and read Curtis’ story. I received so many notes from people—texts, emails, messages on Facebook, etc. Some were emails from really good friends that obviously knew about Curtis’ "issues", but I guess I had never gone into depth about his diagnosis. They seemed happy to hear the whole story, and that makes me happy. I even got an email from Curtis’ retired speech therapist! Awesome. Everyone had positive things to say and sent lots of love to my little man.

So, thanks, you guys. Really.

A lot of people said things that made me blush. I appreciate every single compliment (keep them coming if you wish, my ego loves you for it)...but one label came up a few times and it got me thinking. A few people called me Super Mom. I'm not going to lie, I loved hearing it :) But am I a super mom? Puh-lease! Oh, how I wish I was! But, really? No. I, personally, don’t think so. Have you ever seen me in the parking lot of the grocery store with my 3 kids? Pretty sure you wouldn’t be calling me super mom (or anything even remotely close to that) during those lovely moments. There’s usually tears involved (mine, most of the time). And yelling (again, mine, but you often can’t hear it over the kids’ screaming so I don’t know if that counts). The truth is…I’m just a mom. I’m an average, run-of-the-mill, stay-at-home mom. I even wear “yoga pants” at least 4 days out of the week (I actually do exercise when I wear them, which I think makes it OK...maybe?) But, seriously, that’s how average I am.

Would a super mom's kids take a photo like this?? ha!

And when I think back to those first few weeks after Curtis’ diagnosis, I remember feeling like I was doing an even less than average job as a mom. And I probably was! I was so lost, I don’t know how I cared for my other children during that time. I was grieving the loss of the baby I thought I had. That baby was gone and this new baby was much more complicated. Taking care of this baby wasn’t just diapers and onesies and Baby Einstein, folks! We were entering a world of therapy and hand splints and neurology terms and IFSPs (if you know what that is—"hi!") and it was all happening so fast that I think some days I must not have even known which end was up. I had a two year old and a 5 year old home during all of this? What the?? Our lives were never going to be the same. His future was uncertain and I felt like everything I knew about how to raise and parent a child went out the window. I knew nothing about seizures or hemiplegia or brain disorders!

But let me tell you what happened after the grief and the numbness wore off. I literally woke up one morning and I went into Obsessed, Crazy, Kick Ass Mama mode (yes, I just made that up). You’ve probably been there or know someone who has experienced it—it’s when you go from normal to fierce in 3.2 seconds. I’m convinced that every mom has it. It can come on at any time, really. For me, it was when my child’s health and well-being were at risk and I was the one responsible for trying to make it better. I had to snap out of it and do something.

One of the first things I did, after I was all cried out, was get back online. What I read about cortical dysplasia and the other “stuff” was not pretty, but it had to be read. At least I thought it did. I had to know what I was up against. I wanted to know what all the possibilities were, even if they terrified me. I became obsessed with it. To this day, Curtis hasn’t had a seizure, but I wanted to know what one would look like and what I needed to do if he were to have one. It was important to me. After that, I started paying attention to his therapy stuff. At that time, the physical therapists wanted to work on his trunk strength. They wanted him sitting up. They also wanted him crawling, so we worked on that. Occupational therapy wanted to work on his left hand and arm—opening the hand, reaching for things, stimulating the arm in any way. Whatever they worked on during therapy time, we also worked on at home during non-therapy time. If there was a toy they used during therapy that he liked, I went out and bought that damn toy so we could have it at home. Again, obsessed! I even tried to get big bro and big sis in on the action, “woohoo! Therapy with baby brother!” I was determined to get this kid functioning!

A few months after starting therapy--reaching with his left hand for the first time

Wouldn’t you be just as determined? Yes. You would be. You wouldn’t just sit back and say, “Oh well, he has something wrong with him, that sucks. I guess I’ll just sit around and do nothing.” Would you? No. I don't think so. So I really don't think I’m some super mom that has done all these magical things. I think I'm just a normal mom. One that loves her kids and will do anything to make them OK.

The point is, I really think that you would do the same thing for your child if (God forbid!) you found yourself in a similar circumstance. It's what you do when you're a mom. So, you know, maybe you’re the super mom. Or, whatever…maybe we’re all super moms (and super dads—hi, dads! You rock, too!)