Christopher
As told by his parents
We didn't really know what to expect. We were excited, of course, we were a young married couple anticipating the birth of our first child. Mary and I were kids ourselves, really nervous about being good parents and hopeful about the future that we would enjoy with our very own child. When my wife went into labor and the doctor said "it's a boy" was the most amazing moment. It was shortly after little Christopher arrived when excitement gave way to concern. He weighed less than 5 pounds; too small to go home from the hospital. He had some potential problems, they told us. But no one was clear. He would need to be watched. For the next month, we visited Christopher in the hospital and we had looked through a glass wall while nurses looked after our newborn son. He was so small. So helpless. So far away. This was not the happy beginning that we had dreamed of. It was heart wrenching. Christopher eventually gained enough weight to leave the hospital and we finally had our long awaited homecoming. Looking back now, having had two other children, it seems clear that someone; a pediatrician, a relative, a friend must have noticed how different Christopher was, in his size, appearance and development. I guess no one wanted to say anything. We loved him and hoped for the best. Our world of wishful thinking came to an abrupt end a few weeks before Christopher's first birthday as we rushed him to the emergency room at Children's Hospital in Philadelphia in the midst of a seizure. Christopher pulled through, and although the seizures persisted, they were eventually controlled by medication. After having done a full-scale evaluation on Christopher, Dr. Samuel Tucker invited us into his office at the end of the assessment. It was a conversation that no mother or father could ever forget. "Your son is seriously retarded. It is not likely that he will ever speak or walk. He has, really, no chance for a normal life." We were in free fall. We just wanted to pick up our little boy and go home. Mary and I took our son home from the hospital and, on the very good advice of friends and family, we have taken the ensuing 32 years one day at a time. And, as it has turned out, a surprising number of those days have been happy ones. Christopher eventually did learn to walk. And, though he has never learned to speak, he has had a lot to say to us; about love, perseverance and trust. About what it means to be a human being, a son, a brother and a friend. I'm sure that all moms and dads worry about their children. But the parents of developmentally disabled children have different concerns.
- We don't worry about Christopher getting into college, or landing the big job. We worry about his day-to-day personal care and health needs.
- We don't wonder if he will get married and start his own family. We wonder who will look after him when we're too old to do so, and who will love him when we're gone.
One of the most important things we've learned growing up with Christopher is how far some people and some communities are willing to go to secure the blessings and dignity for our son. Ability Beyond Disability has certainly been at the center of that experience. As a resident in one of Ability Beyond Disability's group homes for almost twelve years, Christopher enjoys a measure of independence that we once doubted he could achieve. He has housemates. He has friends. He has things to do and places to go. We know that he is safe, cared for and, to a greater extent than we once dared to hope, we know that he has a life of his own. Christopher's staff added the following comments:
"Christopher has touched me personally in many ways." "Did you know that in 1999 Christopher received a Volunteer of Year Award for his time and dedication to Meals-On-Wheels? He has taught me to give back to people by his own example."