Cassia's Story
By Melinda H
I used to be a bit afraid of the words "special needs adoption." I knew people who had done it — and yet was that for me? I could not quite imagine myself raising a disabled child. I had prayed continually through my two pregnancies for my babies to be born healthy. Why, then, would I choose a disabled child on purpose?
As I worked through these feelings, I realized that I truly wanted to adopt a child who was harder to place. So when my husband and I looked through the list of possible medical conditions Wide Horizons gave us, I tried to imagine parenting a child "like that." It was kind of scary. While most agencies provide prospective parents with such a list, I now feel ambivalent about their use. I understand that it is good to have thought about what kind of special needs your family can handle before you meet a child or get a referral. And yet... now I realize that going through the list puts all the focus on the child's disability and not on the child herself. Instead of looking at our prospective child as missing something (such as eyesight, hearing, a limb, ability to walk, etc.) maybe we should consider all that they will be able to do. Think of how they will thrive, first of all because of having a family's love and support, then also because of living in this country where accessibility is the law and technology can assist people with mobility and communication.
In the end, we chose a child whose disability was not even on the list. I believe that God led us to the specific child He wanted to be in our family. This is what I have learned: A child is so much more than their disability! Now that Cassia is my daughter, the fact that she was born without her right leg below the knee and has some hand and foot differences is certainly not the most important thing about her. A person is not defined by their disability; they are who they are because of their personality and character.
Cassia is such a normal three-year-old. She is so pretty, high-spirited, and lovable. She is curious, adventurous, and eager to learn. She always wants to go places and do things herself. She gives us the cutest expressions. I love the way she giggles. I love the way she hugs me tight and pats my back. And when she wears her prosthesis, she can walk, run, jump, and dance.
Cassia's body may be shaped differently than most people's, but I love it exactly the way it is. I do not even think it is sad that she is missing part of a leg. I love her "little leg." I often kiss it until she grabs it and kisses it herself and we both laugh! Right now, at age three, Cassia is also completely happy with her body. She is comfortable and knows no embarrassment whether her prosthesis is on or off. Of course, I am pretty sure that will change. As she gets older I assume she will go through stages when she does not want to look different from her peers. She may get frustrated when prosthetic parts break or are uncomfortable. On the other hand, I know disabled children, teens, and adults who are incredibly self-assured. Some joke about their disability or talk freely about it, showing others that there is nothing to fear. I hope I can raise my daughter to have such good self-esteem.