A Letter of Apology to Matthew

Dear Matthew,

          This letter is not one of your birthday letters. Now that you are three and will be starting preschool in a matter of two and a half weeks, I feel that I should apologize to you.

          The past three years have been full of wonder, discovery, stubbornness, and excitement for both of us. Most mothers are able to carry their kids around everywhere. You wanted to be carried everywhere. I couldn't do that.

          I want to explain some things to you. If you haven't already noticed, I'm not like everyone else in your life. I can't walk like everyone else. I can't see like everyone else. And my balance is non-existant. The reason for these problems is because I was born with numerous disabilities. The rest of this letter will explain what those disabilities are and how they have affected me throughout your life.

          When I was born, there weren't tests and machines to help detect problems with a baby like they have today. I had what's called an amneocentisis when I was having you. I was forty years old when I found out you were on the way. Mothers over age thirty five are considered high-risk, so varous tests are recommended to check on the baby while its developing. I had the amneo and it came out fine. Before having that test, I had what are called sonagrams. The first sonagram showed that you had some fluid on your brain. That scared me to no end. This brings me to the my first disability.

          When I was two months old, your grandmother noticed that my eyes weren't focusing normally. She took me to the doctor. The first thing he did was measure my head. It was bigger than it was supposed to be. When he finished his exam, he told Grandma and Grandpa what the problem was. It's called hydrocephelus, or in layman's terms, water on the brain. The first doctor sent us to another doctor to see if anything could be done. This was because the first doctor didn't know how to fix the problem.

          After taking me to many doctors, Grandpa and Grandma were told the same thing. All of these doctors were not willing to operate on me and try to save my life. They all told them to institutionalize me and have other children. Grandma finally went back to work after three months. While there, her co-workers were asking about me. It made her sad to talk about me because I was on the verge of dying if something wasn't done soon. One of her co-workers gave her the name of a resident neurosurgeon, Dr. David Lindner. Grandma called his office and made an appointment. I was taken in to be examined yet again.

          The news this time was better. Dr. Lindner was willing to try to save my life. So, at three months of age, I went through my first of what would be over three hundred surgeries in my lifetime.

          One of the side effects of hydrocephelus was optic nerves damage. This is why I don't have a driver's license. Right now, my eyesight is 20/60 in the left eye, and 20/40 in the right. Normal eyesight is 20/20. Another problem I have is mild cerebral palsy. This in itself is also a brain disorder. It affects my walking mostly. The left side of my body is affected more than my right.

          Throughout my life, I've had to endure many operations. These were for revising the shunt, but I also had other surgeries. I never had my tonsils out. I've had operations on both legs, both knees, my brain, and abdomen. I'm not saying these things to make you feel sorry for me. I'm saying them so that you understand what I had to do to have you and bring you into the world. You are and always will be my miracle. There probably will be more times for me to have surgeries and/or medical treatments.

          It is because of all of these problems that I haven't been able to play with you like I wanted. I know there were times and will be times when you want me to come along with you and Daddy. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to go with you everywhere I can.

          I love you, Matthew. I will do anything I can to keep you safe and protected. You are my heart, my love, and my life. I want to give you every opportunity possible in this world. I want you to experience and feel things I was unable. Live your life to the fullest, Matthew. Whatever you choose as your life's path, I'll be right behind you one hundred percent of the way.

          I hope this letter explains everything to you. If, after reading this, you have any further questions, I will always be here to answer them.


I love you,
Mommy