Of how Nella’s Down’s Syndrome has changed her, Kelle Hampton writes, “I’ve learned how “pain” shapes you as a person and propels you to new depths and how “perfection” is not the glossy magazine cover that Hollywood portrays. I’m learning to shed off the shallow parts of my character I’ve adopted over the years and replace them with love and appreciation for real, painful, beautiful life.”
I can’t say that I have mastered the ability to write to my core in such an eloquent way.
Born and raised a Southerner during the waning years of the Baby Boom Generation, I’m not quite comfortable with the complete openness that writing for publication on the Internet allows.
I admire those who possess this quality that verges on a special type of artistry and craft.
They provide us with a inside look to the various dimensions and facets of humanity and what it means to be human while I still struggle to find a balance of what feels right.
My children and husband value their privacy immensely. Their ages are 11, 18 and 23.
What I say about my eldest now intrudes into the privacy of not simply my children, but offspring who are adults.
As such they have a say in what I might want to share about with the world.
For Kelle, things are still sweet and nice. I remember those times. They are truly wonderful, and we all need cherished them.
I envy the picture of Kelle, and her daughters. With the movement of time, I must now request permission of my two elder children, should I desire to make such a bold move.
And yet in sharing with the world as Kelle has so bountifully done, she has received scores of supporters that I am certain await not only her next blog post, but also the book she has promised to write.
I use the word, promise, because I am one who wants to see her words in print. I want to read her story, promote it, and share it with my daughters, particularly the elder two.
Pain, while we avoid its pangs and fangs, is truly a glorious thing when viewed from as objective position as any human can muster. It draws us closer to each other, our brothers and sisters, those of blood and those who touch our hearts and souls.
Motherhood makes me a comrade in arms with Kelle Hampton.
The pain of motherhood that has touched her through Nella, reminds me of the joy and vulnerability we all experience, undergo and that deepen each time we choose to bring another person into this world through the channel of our wombs.
Our middle daughter is severely dyslexic.
Yet it is in the act of writing and sharing her experience with the world, doing it with such humility and bold honesty—this is what makes me a sister in heart and soul to Kelle Hampton.
She has given us not simply a beautiful story of family, life, truth and joy that arises from the ashes of suffering and challenge.
She has also given me a polestar for which to shoot in my own writing–expressing the raw, unadulterated truth with compassion, love and immense respect.
“…Love me. Love me. I’m not what you expected, but oh, please love me…”
These words cry out not simply to be heard and appreciated, but to also be brought into a book, one that will force us all to ponder who we are, why we are living, and what this gift of life of whom we are the recipients was intended to be about.