Perfect

Yesterday as I was walking from the train station to the bus station on my way home from work I ended up behind a young Ethiopian man about my age. He was blind and using a cute yellow lab as a guide dog (made even cuter by the fact that he had closely trimmed the dog's fur, but left a pom-pom on the end of his very waggy tail). I followed him for several blocks, nearly the entire distance between the two stations. I noticed several things that honestly made me believe in the good in people again. At first I watched him, fascinated by his amazing trust and confidence in this animal, guiding him on a very narrow sidewalk next to a busy highway. As I got closer, I heard him speaking to the dog as they went along. The sweetness of the conversation melted my heart. As they were walking the young man was chatting away to the dog in Hebrew, "Yes Charlie, that's a good boy, here we go, no fu fu Charlie, not for you, lets go we have a big day today." and the dog was doing amazing, guiding the man around obstacles and people and only occasionally getting off track and distracted by an interesting smell, a trash can, an alley cat, only to quickly pop back on duty, gently nudging the young man around obstacles.

As we approached an intersection, I prepared myself to hurry ahead and help out if needed as Israeli traffic is crazy and people tend to be a bit pushy. The intersection was a series of three lanes with medians in between, each one had a different light none of which were in sync with the others. About 10 feet before the first intersection an older woman appeared at the young man's elbow, barely touched his arm and navigated him through the first intersection, and then like some sort of choreographed ballet, he was sort of passed along hand to elbow over the next 3 blocks or so, negotiating intersections and other less than desirable terrain. Not alot of words were spoken between the young man and his "helpers" but it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Whoever landed at his elbow at the correct moment simply touched his arm and led him through. It was really something. This young man was so independent and so lighthearted (his banter with his dog really warmed my heart) and I was so impressed. I am not sure I would have that sort of strength and outlook on life if I were not blessed with sight. I was really inspired, not just by him, but by the type of parents that it would take to raise a child with a "disability" to be such an amazing independent adult, one that can confidently negotiate Israeli traffic and the Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, something that I find difficult and somewhat overwhelming even on a good day.

It made me think back to a video I saw once on YouTube about a man, Dick Hoyt who started participating in triathlons with his extremely "disabled" son Rick. (see similar video here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64A_AJjj8M4&feature=related ) He literally pushes, pulls, and carries his son through these races. The thing that stuck in my mind so strongly was at one point the camera did a close up to the look on Ricks face as they crossed the finish line. Pure unadulterated joy. Turns out that despite doctors telling his parents to institutionalize him, that there was nothing going on in his head, Rick graduated from a public highschool, graduated from college, and has participated in something like 60 marathons and 6 Iron-mans (probably more by now) with his father. Makes me kind of wonder what is stopping me.

I was so amazed at the dedication as a parent that this took. To take a child with such an extreme physical "disability" and really give him such an amazing fulfilling life. To believe in him despite what the doctors said, to pull out all the stops, give your everything to make your child's life better. THAT'S being a parent. Parenting is not just having a baby and getting them to their 18th year in one piece, (although that really isn't as easy as one would imagine given the Little Fat Man's perpetual need to crawl off of beds and bite extension cords, well, at least crawl off of beds though I am sure the extension cord biting is in our near future) it's taking your child, no matter what they look like, what is "wrong" with them, what little thing makes them different from other "perfect" children and recognizing how truly amazing they are, how absolutely perfect they are, and making sure every minute of their lives that they never doubt that fact.

When I was pregnant I was scared as all parents are, that my child might be born with something "wrong". I was not so much afraid of the "disability", but of whether or not I would be strong enough to be the kind of parent that my child would need me to be. To raise my perfect child in a society that can only see "disabilities", differences, looks. I did not know if I had the strength to get past my own vanity (which I admittedly have a lot of) and be able to love my child no matter what, and to make them truly see themselves as the beautiful amazing little creature that they were. When our little monkey was born, we were blessed, despite his traumatic entrance into the world there were no major complications and other than a small heart murmur that healed by day two, he was a healthy baby. At our 2 month check up however, the Nurse at the Tipat Halav (baby clinic) noticed that his fat folds on his legs were asymmetrical. It had never crossed my mind that this was an issue, after all, my fat folds go every which way;). Turns out it can be a sign of a birth "defect" in baby's hips that apparently is fairly common but left untreated can cause a moderate to severe limp into adulthood as well as other problems such as premature arthritis etc.

It took us several months to get to a specialist for an ultrasound and it turns out, our little man did have the birth "defect". They gave us a brace to put him in 24 hours a day, minus butt changes and baths, for a month, and told me under no circumstances to go all Jewish Mama and take it off of him and the problem should be corrected. My husband looked at me and said "Boy, he read you like a book didn't he."

The brace basically makes his little chubbo legs stick out to the sides like a sumo wrestler (we now call him Sumo Sam, like Sammity Sam, minus the Tobasco, plus Soya) and apparently holds his legs at such an angle that it promotes the growth in his hips/pelvis that the cramped conditions in my belly prevented. With any luck, this will do the trick and he will be 100% at the end of the month. Our Little Man, Lord love him, hasn't minded the brace at all, though he does enjoy taking it off now that he has figured out how Velcro works and that it makes a really fun noise (similar to the fun sound the Velcro on his diaper makes, though admittedly the brace has temporarily curbed his ability to take his diaper off in the middle of the night making the midnight golden showers a thing of the past, though I am sure still a part of our near future).

The hardest thing has been the stares from other people. He is such a happy smiley cute little baby and I had gotten used to everyone coming up to him on the street and gushing over him. Now when we go out we get quite a few points and stares. He is too little to notice, I am not. The inner Momma Bear in me has come out full force. I can't help myself. I want to educate people, to stop the ignorance, to make people see his perfection, not just a brace on a blob.

We were at a street festival the other night for Sukkot and there was a concert going on and I had the Little Fat Man in my arms dancing with him and there were several groups of people that would not stop pointing and staring at him. My husband literally had to hold me back because I was ready to go to war. Why can't people see what I see? The perfect little fat happy beautiful amazing snuggly stinky delicious squishy smart creature that he is. Why do they only see the brace?? It makes me sad about our society as a whole, that we can only see differences in people, recognizing them as something bad, wrong, less desirable.

The recent news stories coming from the States of a rash of teenagers and college kids killing themselves because they were gay and had experienced such severe bullying/mistreatment because of this that they thought the only answer was to take their own lives has really bothered me on a very deep level. Recently I had a heated discussion with a few of my In-laws, who will remain nameless in this case as I was fairly disappointed in their behavior. We were playing cards and it came up that the Little Man loves Women. My guess is that it is not so much Women that he loves, but food, and since food comes from boobies and boobies are generally attached to Women, the attraction is fairly obvious. Anyways I digress. A comment was made that "Betach who ohev yeldote, who Gever lo?!?! Ma who Homo??" which roughly translates to "Of course he loves girls, hes a boy isn't he?? What he's gay??"

I was a bit taken aback. I told said commentator that it didn't matter who he loved, boy, girl, whatever, as long as he was happy. This person then asked me (rough translation) if I WANTED him to be gay??? I said it didn't matter to me, gay, straight, trans, questioning, bisexual, a-sexual, whatever. I WANT him to be HAPPY, (okay truthfully I want him to be happy and bring me grand-babies, but I will settle for happiness if I have to decide between the two. Though I still want grand-babies...) I want him to know love and to be loved and to love himself. I refuse to tell him how to do this. It is not for me to decide, it is not my right. My job is to make sure he knows that whoever he loves, that it will not change my love for him (or my desire for grand-babies).

Our job as parents is not just to feed and clothe our children, to make sure they manage to get out into the big world on their own in one piece. It is to give them so much love that when the nastiness of this world we live in seeps through, the love we give them, the strength, the confidence, the knowledge that they are wonderful and amazing and truly perfect nullifies it. That when someone stares at them because they have braces on their teeth, or their legs, or glasses, or a stutter, or they decide to kiss boys and not girls (or girls and not boys), or in any other way don't fit into society's very tiny very exclusive very unrealistic mold of how people "should" be, that they know that they are in every way shape and form the most wonderful beautiful perfect creature that we have ever laid eyes on. With this knowledge, they will never doubt themselves. They will be able to negotiate Israeli traffic without their eyes, they will run triathlons and graduate college despite crippling physical "disabilities", they will manage to hold their heads up and love who they want to love despite heartless and brutal bullying, they will make a better society than we have today. The young blind man's parents must have done this, Rick Hoyt's parents certainly did this, I would like to think that the young gay victim's parents at least TRIED to do this, and maybe the inner Momma Bear in me is dong this as well.

This world WILL be a better place if we raise our children with love and with tolerance. Our differences, whether physical, sexual, mental, spiritual, or cultural do not make us better or worse, they simply make us different. We need different. This world today is so filled with images of "perfect" that we can no longer see the beauty in different. Maybe, because of us (though perhaps I should say despite us) our children can.