I recognize how dangerous it is to say anything that ventures into personal territory regarding a very public politician. I'm gonna do it anyway.
And here it is: Pursuing a vice presidential bid is insulating Sarah Palin from much of the pain that's inherent to raising a child with special needs.
I don't care how many families of children with Down Syndrome border the rope line to greet her. Meeting them and hearing about their individual triumphs and tragedies is akin to experiencing your life as a movie. Only when every string of moments that comprise her days starts to feel as unreal as a cinematic creation will she be able to understand the poignancy of a life forever altered by chance. And I'm not talking about the entertaining, feel-good political Hollywood story she's living now. I'm referring to the documentary her life has become. (Even if she's not fully aware.) The kind of truth expose' that few choose to sit through, and yet those who do leave forever changed.
I'm watching you Sarah Palin, and I'm remembering. Each glimpse of you with Trig gives me an opportunity to replay our family's story as I tune-in to witness yours. When I don't see you with him, you are just a politician to me. Basically, when he's out of sight, your unique circumstances are out of my mind. And I remember that feeling in a personal way too. Like you, I relished my hours at work, knowing my husband or someone else was caring for my son until my work day ended and I had to head home.
And so, I've started praying for you, Sarah Palin. (We are the same age after all, so I identify more than you know.) I'm praying that your crash into reality goes smoothly. And that your eventual day of deeply personal enlightenment might serve our country well no matter the title that accompanies your name: vice president, governor or mom.