We always get to be both


The photo captures a profile of Rebekah sitting in her wheelchair in front of a wall of books. She’s lifting up her t-shirt to show a big round belly. She’s leaning back, looking down, her hands on the sides of her belly.

Audio Transcript:

The night before Otto was born, Micah took pictures of my belly resting atop my paralyzed legs and wheelchair. We knew it was important to document this intersection of symbols. Parenting and disability are usually imagined separately – set up like a dichotomy, we organize care receivers vs. caregivers, drains on society vs. contributions to society, diseased vs. fertile. Put into boxes and sorted.

In contrast and since becoming a parent myself, I’ve been shocked to realize just how similar the experiences of parenthood and disability feel to me. Truly, I’ve never encountered another space/identity that felt more familiar. In my own experience, disability and parenthood both gave me access to an insiders club and fostered fast, deep bonds with people. They’ve both brought life-changing limitations, demanded extra planning and flexibility, required accommodations to the house and car. They’ve both brought profound depth, pain, joy, loss, connection, frustration, and laughter to my life. They both make my heart ache and fill me with pride. They both bring days that make me want to quit the whole damn thing and days where all the stars align. All of this at once. I can’t think of any other experience or identity that holds so much at once for me.

And yet, even as both experiences are complicated and all-encompassing, isn’t it interesting that parenthood is generally portrayed as a net gain and disability is generally perceived as an unequivocal loss? Can you imagine if the overwhelming response to new parents was heartbreak, condolences, and pity? Or if culturally we were able to recognize potential value in disability? Can you imagine if we responded to parenthood/disability with a resounding, “That could mean anything on earth to you! How do you feel today?” These experiences aren’t a one-to-one comparison, and they aren’t interchangeable. The experience of one doesn’t mean you automatically understand the other.  Obviously not. But I DO think we should open up our narratives surrounding each. Parenthood can tangle with grief and loss. Disability can include joy and abundance. We get to be both. We always get to be both.

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