Giovanna Spantigati

"Mom, why was I born like this?"

A mother of a disabled child knows this pitiless question will be asked her, and if the child is 8 years old it is even more difficult to answer. But this particular mother tells him a huge lie. "Your father and I asked for a special child, not a child like any other. And so you were born."

The child looks at her mother scowling and begins to hate her. Children, without the typical anxieties of adults, can accept truth much better than we do, but they don't accept lies. They are children, not idiots. What child can be happy not to have the same opportunities as the others? A baby with spina bifida can learn to accept himself the way he is, not to distort reality. When fairy tales no longer exist, you can't deny reality.

No one wants to have a disabled child. We all want absolutely normal children. And it is inevitable, though terrible, that a disabled child at some point feels the need to blame those who gave him birth.

Honesty, love and balance can rebuild a destroyed inner self, annihilated by a scornful fate; as if a skyscraper collapsed on itself leaving debris and dust before his eyes full of tears. He needs his mom next to him to blow the dust off with all her strength, to show him reality, throwing away, with him, the remains of destruction. And in the haste anger is transformed into pride, and strength increases.

And then mother and baby look at each other and smile. The dust is gone. And they look forward dreamily: where there were ruins there is a wonderful flowery meadow, the warm wind dried the tears, his eyes are as clear as stream water just born from a new source. And there, on the lawn, they will build a wonderful house. Because in order to build a house you must place the right foundation. The scent of love for life. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and think of the lawn, the house, a child hand.
Maybe one day my son will asks me: "Mom why am I born like this?" I smile. I know what to say.


Giovanna Spantigati