This page is dedicated to the children of DISI.

My Baby

Little baby, how I love you
As I watch you lying there
With the shadows on your blanket
And the moonlight in your hair
When I see you softly smiling
through the stardust in the night
I can see a tiny angel
in the lambent bedroom light
I shall ask the saintly sandman
when tonight he passes by
To select a song from Heaven
for your tender lullaby...
And I hope that in your dreaming
you will sometimes think of me.
For my hand for your protection
ever at your side will be
Little baby, how I love you
From the twilight to the dawn
And from sunrise to the sunset
When the shades of dusk are drawn

- Author Unknown

At DISI we are Blessed to have crossed paths with many Angels here on Earth. Ones that have touched my heart deeply are the children sent with a special task of teaching the world Patience, Understanding, Faith, and most important, Compassion. This poem conveys my feelings towards their mothers much better than I could ever put into words.

The Special Mother

by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.

This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen?

Somehow I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth; son. Patron saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

"Forrest, Marjorie; daughter. Patron saint, Cecelia."

"Rutledge, Carrie; twins. Patron saint, Matthew."

Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."

The angel is curious. "Why this one God? She's so happy."

"Exactly," smiles God, "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But has she patience?" asks the angel.

"I don't want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she'll handle it."

"I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has her own world. She has to make her live in her world and that's not going to be easy."

"But, Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles, "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect - she has just enough selfishness." The angel gasps - "selfishness? is that a virtue?"

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a 'spoken word'". She will never consider a "step" ordinary. When her child says 'Momma' for the first time, she will be present at a miracle, and will know it!"

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see...ignorance, cruelty, prejudice....and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life, because she is doing My work as surely as if she is here by My side".

"And what about her Patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air. 

God smiles, "A mirror will suffice."

Here are some links that were provided to help provide awareness and support.

United Cerebral Palsy

National Org. for Rare Disorders, Inc

PVL Resource Center

Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric AIDS Foundation

Attention Deficit Disorder

Welcome to Easter Seals

Chromosomal Disorder Referral Guide

 I wanted to share this writing, which touched my heart deeply. It is a little long, but very well worth the read. 

I Am The Child

I am the child who cannot talk. You often pity me, I see it in your eyes. 
You wonder how much I am aware of. I see that as well. I am aware of 
much ... whether you are happy or sad or fearful, patient or impatient, 
full of love and desire, or if you are just doing your duty by me. I marvel 
at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater, for I cannot express 
myself or my needs as you do.

You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is at times. I do not gift 
you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated. 
I do not give you answers to your everyday questions, responses over my well
being, sharing my needs, or comments about the world about me. I do not give
you rewards as defined by the world's standards.. great strides in development
that you can credit yourself; I do not give you understanding as you know it.

What I give you is so much more valuable... I give you instead opportunities.
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine; the depth of
your love, your commitment, your patience, your abilities; the opportunity to
explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible. I drive you
further than you would ever go on your own, working harder, seeking answers
to your many questions with no answers. I am the child who cannot talk.

I am the child who cannot walk. The world seems to pass me by. You see the
longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other
children. There is much you take for granted. I want the toys on the shelf,
I need to go to the bathroom, oh I've dropped my fork again. I am dependant
on you in these ways. My gift to you is to make you more aware of your great
fortune, your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself. 
Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them. I feel not
so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright, to put one foot in front of
the other, to be independent. I give you awareness. I am the child who
cannot walk.

I am the child who is mentally impaired. I don't learn easily, if you judge me
by the world's measuring stick, what I do know is infinite joy in simple
things. I am not burdened as you are with the strifes and conflicts of a more
complicated life. My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things
as a child, to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you
love. I give you the gift of simplicity. I am the child who is mentally
impaired.

I am the disabled child. I am your teacher. if you allow me, I will teach you
what is really important in life. I will give you and teach you unconditional
love. I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency upon you. I teach you
about how precious this life is and about not taking things for granted. I
teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams. I teach
you giving. Most of all I teach you hope and faith. I am the disabled child.

In ending this page I struggled with whether or not to include this last piece of poetry. I have decided to include it, with the hope that I do not offend or upset. It is my dedication to the sweet Angels that have passed through our lives briefly, but long enough to forever be loved with heart and soul, until Mother and Child will be together again.

My Little Angel

I felt your presence there inside of me,
nestled soft and warm;
Sweet scent of baby's breath,
precious words left unadorned.

I saw your tiny heartbeat,
then I knew that you were fine;
A perfect baby we created,
one that would be mine.

Then that tragic day it came
there was nothing I could do,
Only wait and hope
for the precious life of you.

Yes in the beginning
your daddy was afraid;
Only he would love you unconditional
and never run away.

He loved you more this I do know,
as he cried for you that day,
When the doctor said that you were gone,
daddy wanted you to stay.

He would have held you close to him,
and see your perfect form,
A gift of daddy's love,
would have kept you safe and warm.

Only now you are an angel over me
beautiful and bare,
My heart would hurt if you cried for me
and mommy was not there.

Still we are together in my heart and memories,
You are still a part of my memory.

Rest gentle now 'sweet baby' there is no pain
you are never alone,
I know you are with the guiding angels
in your peaceful home.

I will come with you someday
only now is not my time,
Then we will be together again
again you will be mine.

-By: Ronda

Dedicated to all parents awaiting the day to be reunited with their children once again.

I made these pages with only love in my heart and if I have offended or hurt in any way, please accept my apologies.  If you have comments or suggestions, please feel free to Email :)

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