Don’t insult the half-brained baby!

Posted on Sep 21, 2009 | 8 comments

For those of you that think there is never anything amusing to be found in the most dire of situations, you’ve come to the wrong blog.

May is delightful. She has endless rolls of chub. She burps like a frat boy. She is an absolute maniac when it comes to bouncing. I skyped my mother last night and she could barely see her granddaughter. She was a blur. Like Superman at full speed.

She also has a disturbing ginger tint to her fuzzy scalp. “Her greatest disability,” my husband called it. It was our first joke about May.

I am not noble enough, not rational enough, not level-headed enough to face this situation with the due respect it deserves 24-hours a day. If I manage to complete a day and look back on it with a smile, it is a triumphant one indeed. Seriously.


  1. My eldest son was born with severe bilateral club feet, which looked like lumpen hooks when he was born.

    A family member said that we would have to save our money and send him to a special school where all the other children would “have something wrong with them too”, as he was too disabled to go to school with (get this) “normal children”.

    When I told her that there were great advantages to Tom’s feet, and that we didn’t have to worry when we wanted to leave him for a while as we could just hang him from the curtan rail by his feet, she was not amused.

    She still thinks it was an outrageous thing for me to say, but sees nothing wrong with her comment.

    She’s still an idiot. And my son, now 14, after several surgeries and a lot of physio, is still disabled but runs (slowly) and plays football (badly) in the company of “normal children” at his “normal school”. But he does it, bless him, and his friends don’t even notice that he has a problem.

    So there.

    • Love the comment about hanging him from the rail……,you have to laugh at things and having a sense of humour is a must

  2. I wanted to respond to your guardian article. I had an identical experience to you following my daughters birth. I remeber the strange emotions you describe and the experience of living a nightmare which is how I remember that period. All the best to you.

  3. Wanted to tell you how moved I was by your Guardian article and that your little girl is beautiful!

  4. Hi,
    I just wanted to say thank you for your very raw article, I read it with tears running down my face- both through joy and heartache for you. My second cousin has everything you have described that May has, she is now 10 and a wonderful person.
    I wish you all so much love for the future.
    PS May is absolutely beautiful

  5. Look at those chubby peachy cheeks! Shes beautiful. :) I love your husbands comment about her ginger fuzz being her greatest disability. Hahaha. I’m HOPING my LO will have red hair (her daddy does, and my mothers grandfather did).

  6. May is beautiful. I hope that she continues to amaze and astound her doctors and amuse and love her parents for many, many years to come. (Found your blog via PopSugar, which I rarely read – but I am glad that I did, tonight.)

  7. İ have no experience like yours but İ want to tell you that your daughter is just beautiful and İ am sure every second of every day you feel blessed.

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