Precerpt from Raising God's Rainbow Makers: The Beginnings of an Advocate
I never imagined that the squabbles of my childhood would be needed as an adult. But they have been. I was a tomboy. There was no question about that. My favorite place was in the upper branches of the apple tree in the front orchard, and my best friends were all boys. That might have colored how I related to the world as a kid, and I do mean as a kid.
The first major altercation, according to my mother, was with my friend Bobby, who was more than a tad taller than I (he became captain of the high school football and basketball teams) and just a tad (one year) older. We were pals then--and all the way through school. But we had an altercation. As my mother tells it, Bobby had a candy bar, and I had an ice cream cone. As our parents were gabbing to each other on the city street, I offered Bobby a lick of my ice cream cone. He was very happy for that lick. I asked for a bite of his candy bar, and he was not happy with that kind of sharing. But lick for bite, it should have been a fair exchange, and so I demanded it. When he refused, I swung at him and knocked him on his butt on the street. Our mothers noticed us then! One point for fairness!
It was not much after that when I had a doctor's appointment. I was about four, according to my mother. The doctor wanted me to take off my pants so he could examine me. I said no. He said yes. I said no-no-no. He insisted, so I kicked him hard at the spot across from where I stood on the table -- in the groin. He told my mother to take me home and never come back. One point for personal dignity!
Somewhat after that, I entered elementary school, where I learned that boys and girls are different. That difference was reinforced at recess when the boys ran off to the boys' playground, where they played exciting games of baseball and other physically fun stuff, and the girls were shunted off to kiddie activities and a gentle time of riding swings and merry-go-rounds and sliding down slides. I was not having it. I would sneak over to the boys' playground to play baseball with them. I could hit good, and I could run fast. I could even throw the ball and catch it with a fair amount of accuracy, not spectacular, but not worse than many of the guys. Nearly every time, I soon felt a teacher's hand on my collar, dragging me back to the girls' playground, and the teacher sternly admonishing, "You are not a boy!" Finally, by fifth grade -- yes, I was still sneaking over to play with the boys -- I figured out a way to stay out of trouble (I thought). I wrote a play to be performed in class that had roles for boys and girls -- and I invited the boys to come onto the girls' playground to rehearse. They did so gladly. And again I was in trouble! But--one point for equality!
In junior high school, I got into a fight on the school bus with seven boys. They were becoming teenagers and were looking at girls a little differently, no longer just as ballgame teammates. They teased me by taking my book bag. I was having none of that, and soon there were fisticuffs all around. Seven boys and I were kicked off the bus, and our parents had to come get us. My father reprimanded me for fighting, especially with boys. "But," I protested, irked at being kicked off the bus, "I was winning!" One point for justice!'
So, when I had to fight for Noelle and Doah through proposed inappropriate medical procedures (or for ones they needed and were not offered) and proposed inappropriate school placements (or for better ones that were not offered), I was not learning to be an advocate. I already was. I had a strong sense of fairness, personal dignity, equality, and justice -- and was experienced at expressing it. I began at the age of three.
Book Description:
Raising God's Rainbow Makers: A Family Memoir of Grace, Grit, and Growing Up Different
What happens when a military family welcomes four children—each with wildly different needs—into a world not always built to support them?
In Raising God’s Rainbow Makers, one mother shares the remarkable journey of raising two children with complex disabilities—one with spina bifida, one with CHARGE Syndrome—and two intellectually gifted children, all born in different states during years of military life. Through medical crises, educational challenges, and societal roadblocks (both intentional and unintentional), this honest and inspiring memoir tells the story of how one family built a life of strength, compassion, and resilience.
With warmth and unflinching honesty, the author reflects on emergency surgeries, IEP battles, unexpected victories, and the fierce sibling bonds that formed in the face of it all. The children—now grown—bear witness to the power of support, faith, and never giving up.
This is not just a story of survival. It is a celebration of difference, a chronicle of hope, and a powerful testament to what love and determination can build when the world says "impossible."
Keywords:
Parenting memoir; Special needs parenting; Raising children with disabilities; Military family life; Family resilience; Inspirational family story; Faith-based memoir; Coping with medical challenges; Sibling support stories; Gifted children; Spina bifida; CHARGE Syndrome; Hydrocephalus; Congenital disabilities; Complex medical needs; Pediatric neurosurgery; IEP and special education; Gifted education; Educational advocacy; Inclusive education; Hope and healing; Courage and strength; Love and perseverance; Raising different children; Disability acceptance; Parenting through adversity; Overcoming barriers; Finding joy in hardship; Special needs journey; Family unity and support; For parents of disabled children; For parents of gifted children; For educators and therapists; Christian parenting memoir; For families facing rare diagnoses; Real-life parenting stories; Memoirs about raising children; Stories of medical miracles
For more posts about Elizabeth and her books, click HERE.
Read more stories -- and photos -- about the Mahlou family in the blog (no longer maintained), Clan of Mahlou.
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