The Blessing Counter: World CP Day.

I was still on the Labor and Delivery floor desperately trying not to deliver three babies the first time I heard the words Cerebral Palsy used in relation to my children. A female medical student was talking loudly outside my room as the medical team made rounds. She said she would never have taken medicine to stop labor if she had been me, she didn't want kids with cerebral palsy. I will never know if my amazing attending physician heard her or not, but I do know he banned those students from my rom for the remainder of my 10 week stay under the auspice of protecting the privacy of my husband (who was at the time a med student) and I. But by then the damage had been done. Her words pierced my thoughts, interrupted my sleep and weighed heavy on my heart.

While I was not sure exactly what such a diagnosis entailed, I knew that life with cerebral palsy was a better option than death. I longed for the safe arrival of these three amazing babies who I already loved with all that I was...I really just wanted my babies to live, to breath, to rock in my arms.

When you are flat on your back in a hospital bed for weeks on end because doctors are petrified if you so much as move a foot off the bed you will go into labor...

When every doctor has explained and explained again to ensure you and your husband are absolutely clear that your babies are too tiny to survive if they are delivered "now"...

When you are so scared that you throw all the parenting books into the trashcan...

I really really just wanted my babies to live, to breath, to rock in my arms.

Holding them, rocking them, even the waking up round the clock with them was sweeter than I ever imagined. But when the time came for them to start moving -- rolling, sitting, crawling -- and we were forced to acknowledge that though they surpassed my wildest expectations, our boys were in fact not meeting milestones at the level their sister was. Though our pediatrician encouraged us that their development was probably just delayed due to their prematurity, she ordered physical therapy to help push them along.

Just days before their first birthday, we were given the official diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy. The next few years would stretch me further than I ever imagined and though the three faces that greeted me each morning were the lights of my life, there was also a struggle to read into each milestone -- or absence of milestones -- to what the future might look like for these amazing boys.

Because here is the hard truth -- a diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy has very little meaning. It doesn't say your child will need a wheelchair; or be blind; or deaf; or need a feeding tube. The diagnosis doesn't say if they will talk, walk or be able to feed themselves. The doctors can speculate based on brain scans and developmental history but really, the proof is in the child himself, and on one knows until they know.

And let me assure you, the not knowing, oh my stomach tenses up just reliving that season as I type, because the not knowing is the worst part. Once we know, then we can plan, educate ourselves and determine the best course of helping our children reach their full potential. But the not knowing. The not knowing was jut treacherous.

Talking, walking and feeding themselves - it always seems to be where the doctor starts. Benjamin was talking early, so we felt confident that area of his brain was not affected. Mason's speech was more delayed but we remained hopeful that he would catch up in that area -- and he did.

Walking was the next big thing. Mason was only 18 months old when he began using the little silver and red walker. He was incredibly driven to move and that attitude served him well. He progressed to the crutches -- we call them power sticks -- just in time to prepare to meet Mickey Mouse at 3 and a half.

Benjamin was not as motivated to move. He was content to sit in Mommy's lap and love and be loved. He could talk to anyone and everyone and he did and that was enough. When at 3 he began using the walker, it was only the thought of Mickey Mouse that motivated him to move his feet. And even then, the physical labor was so intensive and tiresome that we knew it was not practical for long distances.

Eating was not much different - Mason was extremely motivate and therefore figured out ways to get the food to his mouth. Benjamin had no interest. If even tried to teach him to feed himself in therapy, he fought us because he wasn't hungry. If I tried to teach him at mealtime, he just didn't eat, and he could not afford not to eat. It was a horrible Catch 22.

My trio are 24 today. I can type and even speak about those early years without crying -- for the most part.

My precocious talker, Benjamin, uses his voice to advocate for not just the disabled but for all marginalized populations. He educates, he writes, he uses his voice. He still doesn't walk, but rather rolls through life in a power wheelchair. He still doesn't get real excited about food-- unless shrimp or tacos are involved.

And the one who was a delayed talker -- well this week he guest lectured from Texas to Georgia about disability in classic mythology! He teaches classes at Texas Tech and is working on a second Masters degree there, this one in Bio Archaeology. He wants to continue studying disability in ancient cultures. He still uses his power sticks to walk. And as far as feeding himself -- Mason has an amazing palate. We all let him order first when we go to restaurants and then follow his lead!

Today is World Cerebral Palsy Day.

Did you know approximately 18 million people worldwide have CP. That is 36 million parents who at some point have micro-analyzed those babies talking, walking, and feeding. That is 18 million homes that probably need some level of adaptation. That is a lot of power sticks, walkers and special feeding utensils.

But y'all, according to WHO, at least 10 million children desperately need a wheelchair but do not have access to one. We traveled to Mexico on mission when the triplets were pre-teens. The young waitress at the restaurant our team pulled into upon crossing the border could not take her eyes off of Benjamin. I assumed she had not seen someone with a disability before. Honestly, I found myself a bit annoyed that she was staring. Until she came up to me, placed her hand on my arm and asked if he had CP. As I nodded yes, I saw the tears rolling down her face. Between my limited broken Spanish, and her better English, we sat and talked for a bit as she told me about her son who also had CP. He was a couple years younger than my trio but never leaves their home. He lays in the bed all day every day, she explained, because he does not have a wheelchair.

Today is World Cerebral Palsy Day and I am wearing green to bring awareness to not just what CP is but ways we can make the world easier to navigate, easier to triumph, and easier to serve for young people like mine.

I am wearing green because the more we know about CP the less stigmatized it becomes. The more you know the more accessibly you can make your home, your business. The more you know the more open you can be to relationships with people with CP. The more you know the more we can work to insure young people with CP around the world can get the mobility devices they need, can get the education they require, and can make the world better and brighter with their brilliance.

I am wearing green because that medical student outside my hospital room almost 25 years was ignorant and I don't want to leave anyone in my path ignorant.