It feels natural to hold a newborn in your arms. Just as natural as cradling a handicapped child.
But an adult...
Listening to a child's babbling is one thing; trying to understand an adult's is quite another.
Feeding a child, even a growing one, is manageable. But having to feed a man, spoon by spoon—that's different altogether.
It comes naturally to care for a child's hygiene; but doing that for an adult doesn't feel natural at all.
Washing, feeding, rocking, carrying, pushing a small child—for a young mother, it's instinctive. But doing all this for an adult, especially when you're no longer young yourself, is something else entirely.
And yet this handicapped adult—we rocked him, fed him, carried him when he was small.
Imperceptibly, day by day, his body grew. But he is still the same person: our son and our brother.
Caring for Profoundly Disabled Adults: Voices and Testimonies
I Never Thought It Would Be Like This
Were We Good Parents?
An Antidote to Despair
My Brother Marco
Overwhelmed and Startled—Who Isn't?