Somewhere in Time - Dear Joshua

My husband, Paul, gave me a book the Christmas after our son Joshua was born. He bookmarked and circled the following excerpt from that book in order to bring it to my attention. He knew I needed to read this.

Thank you Paul, for trusting me and having constant faith in me to raise our son.

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 general ledger.

"Armstrong, Beth, son, Patron saint, Matthew.

"Forest, Marjorie, daughter, Patron saint, Cecilia.

"Rutledge, Carrie, twins, Patron saint ... give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

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 a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel."

"But does she have 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 wear off, she'll handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence that are so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has his own world. She has to make him 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 'Mommy' for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. When she describes a tree or a sunset to her child, she will see it as few people ever see my creations. 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 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."
Erma Bombeck from the book 'Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession"
Erma Bombeck from the book 'Motherhood, the Second Oldest Profession"

Dear Joshua:

One night I had a dream. I dreamed I had a son and named him Joshua. Joshua? Where did that come from? The only Joshua I was familiar with fought a battle at Jericho. And won.

Two days later you were born. You were named Joshua. I didn't know it then, but you would be spending the rest of your life fighting your own silent battles. I didn't see you for a couple of days after you were born as you were in an incubator. I was assured it was not too serious. Finally the doctor brought you to my hospital room. You were so beautiful. But both your legs were casted from the knees down. The doctor explained you were born with bilateral clubbed feet. The casts should straighten your feet so you could walk some day.

I wasn't too worried. He did say it was correctable. We traveled to the hospital twice a week to have your casts changed. Babies grow so quickly. How you hated that cast saw. By the third month, with no visible correction, your doctor recommended surgery.

I didn't like the sounds of surgery, but I knew there were few other alternatives. He rebuilt both your tiny feet and pinned your heels into place inside your new casts. By now you just considered casts to be a way of life.

It was about this time your 'bunny' (thank you Fischer Price) became your constant and dependable source of comfort.

At the end of your first year, you were still not making any attempt to walk. I attributed it to the casts, but your physiotherapist suspected it might be something more. A specialist confirmed you had a mild form of cerebral palsy.
This news was more worrisome. This was going to make it a little harder for you to get up and get walking when those casts came off. Do you remember the physiotherapist coming to the house three times a week for two years? And the occupational therapist? And the vocational therapist. Your life was full of therapists. They tied you into some pretty strange contraptions to keep your legs strengthened. When you turned three years old, still in casts, still not walking, still not talking, another interesting diagnosis was made. You had apraxia.

Apraxia means that when you attempt to speak, the messages from your brain to the muscles in your tongue somehow get scrambled. The words don't come out correctly or in proper sequence. Most times the words don't come out at all. I knew you had so many important things you wanted to say and it was all 'stuck' inside your head. We all learned some sign language so you could share your thoughts with us. One particularly memorable Christmas, you sang Silent Night to us - in sign. Our family doctor suggested we would be doing you and ourselves a favour by institutionalizing you. I fired him. And it's a good thing I did because even though you were still in casts, one miraculous day when you were four years old, you suddenly pulled yourself up off the floor and you walked.

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. You were so excited, laughing and showing off, while we all stood there shocked - watching you. That's the day your own walls came tumbling down.

You started school when you were five years old. After all those years, your corrective casts were finally removed when you were six. Other than a couple of other 'minor' surgeries and one more bout of casting when you were 17, that was the last you saw of hospitals and cast saws.
In 1999 you had another celebration in your life. You graduated from high school and your grad picture says it all!!!!!!!!!

You continue to amaze everyone who has been involved in your life as you steadfastly, determinedly, silently climb each of your own private mountains. Like the Joshua before you, you have won.
Love Mom

As a youngster, Joshua never played with the usual toys that interested little boys. He eventually gave up on his toy record player and instead showed a keener interest in Dad's 'stereo system'.

Joshua was born with a smile on his face. Even when it seemed to us adults that it couldn't get much worse, and as the bad news just kept coming, we had only to look at Joshua, see that smile and know that it wasn't so bad; it was going to be okay.
With the dedicated help of his many teachers and aides as well as his classmates throughout all his school years, his transition from grade to grade was always a pleasant experience for him. This year he is attending a pre-employment program for young special needs adults. Next year he wants to take a two-year computer course (specifically for the handicapped) at Vancouver Community College.
Joshua has two very major, positive things in his favour. He is extremely visual. Plus he has a photographic memory. (One day our sound system stopped working. We all took one look at all those wires at the back and walked away. Imagine our surprise when suddenly we heard the sounds of music from the living room. But what made it so exciting was to find Joshua buried in those wires and cables busily making the correct connections. He watched when it was installed and he remembered how it was done.) The realization he had this ability to observe and remember opened up all kinds of exciting, new possibilities.


Joshua may not have hobbies on the ski slopes or on the baseball field, but he is able to name every player on any baseball or hockey team. He can tell you what actor played in what movie. He can tell you who produced or wrote the score for any film made in the past few years. He can install computer software. And he will beat you at any computer (action) game. He can burn a CD with his CD Writer. He reads the newspaper every morning while he's eating his breakfast. He checks the hockey scores, he checks the weather in Hawaii or in Ontario, he checks to see what movie starts when and where.

Joshua can't tell you what time it is and he can't tie his shoes. Or he might tell you an ice cream cone costs a hundred dollars. Or that 5 + 3 = thirtyteen. But anyone who can program the VCR, in my estimation, is going to make out just fine in this world.