Isn't it amazing how time flies? It just seems like yesterday that I was a teenager and that my mom was closer to her 30s than she is to her 70s! This got me to thinking about what she was like at my age, how she raised three kids and was a stay at home mom, the best mom. I actually meant to write a similar post around Mother's Day, but because my life is so busy and harried and chaotic, I never made the time.
My mom was 32, my current age, when I was born. She was also mom to my two older brothers, one who at the time was 10 and the other 4. I can only imagine, being that I am the mom of two boys who has always desperately wanted a girl, how excited she must have felt when she finally gave birth to a baby girl (no offense Chris and Brad). So just one week after her 32nd birthday, she had two sons and a new infant daughter, her family was complete and she had the rest of her life to watch her kids grow in the way that only a mother can understand, with complete joy and awe at the witnessing of every milestone and goal reached. And even though raising three kids couldn't have been easy (heck, raising two wears me slap out sometimes), I can only imagine that she felt like her life was as blessed as it could possibly be.
And then she received life changing news. When she was 32, my age, she learned she suffered from an eye disease, Retinitis Pigmentosa or RP, that could potentially cause her to go totally blind. I was 9 months old when she was officially diagnosed and was told she would and could never drive again.
Just stop and think about that one fact for just a minute. As a mom, I am constantly on the go. Just this past week I have been to the gym, grocery store, Karate, pharmacy, speech therapy, church, out to eat, shopping, hair salon and who knows where else. My life is always on the move, and my kids always need to go somewhere. Can you for one second imagine what it would be like to all of the sudden become 100% totally dependent on someone else to get you from point A to point B everyday, all the time, especially when you have young kids? What that news must have felt like I simply cannot comprehend. All I do know is that for the past 32 years, she has handled her vision loss with complete grace.
I had a typical, wonderful, Leave It to Beaver life growing up. In fact, I never even realized my mom was unlike the other moms in that she couldn't take me and do things with me by myself as a kid. This is where my dad stepped in. He was (still is) an amazing husband and dad who never complained and always was available to take me and mom to do the things we would have probably done alone together had she been able to drive. And I am so thankful for it. Sure, I probably wasn't thrilled to go bra shopping with him at 13, but to this day, I still go to him for fashion advice and other typical "mom" questions. Her vision loss brought my entire family together, making us work as a team.
Of course, it is easy for me to point out the positives of my mom's RP as a normal seeing person. But to be honest, I never remember her complaining as a kid about her lack of independence and lack of vision. Sure, occasionally I would catch her cry, be upset or say things like "this stinks," but I have no memories of her allowing her vision to change the way she raised myself and my brothers. She was hands-on, involved and set the bar of mothering so high that I may never be able to reach it.
As I have grown older, her vision has grown worse. And to be honest, I don't always give her the credit she deserves for living with such a difficult handicap. I have never known my mother as a normal seeing person. To me, life with her as a visually impaired person is "normal." And because I am so use to her low vision, I am sometimes far too quick to say things exasperatedly at her like "Mother, it is RIGHT there! In front of you!" But when I stop to think about it, I cannot even fathom what it would be like if the only vision I had was a pinpoint sized opening of sight that was barely enough to function. I also cannot imagine what losing my vision slowly, over 32 years, having it steadily declining at rate that causes constant readjusting to life with even less vision than the years, months or weeks before would be like. About the time she is comfortable with what she can see, her vision changes, diminishes, and she must again be reminded of what she has lost. How constantly frustrating that must feel.
And how has she handled this over the years? With true grace and dignity. One of the best things about mom is her ability to laugh at herself. We constantly laugh at her vision inspired mishaps. Once when I was a kid, she hung her coat on a ladies head at my ballet practice thinking it was an empty chair. She has mowed over people bent down in the isles of Wal-Mart and kept on going never knowing she caused someone a spill. She has waited in line behind a gigantic Shrek inflatable wondering why the customer service line was not moving; she has spread her belongings out at already occupied restaurant tables and happily sat down before realizing she was sitting with other people; she has stolen a stranger's leftovers mistaking the stranger for a friend holding her leftovers in a restaurant; she has walked into Sam's Club on the arm of a Mexican woman thinking it was dad; she has gotten into a car backwards unable to figure out why her legs wouldn't fit correctly; she has gone into public wearing mismatched earrings and shoes; she has hugged and kissed the gas man mistaking him for Shaun, her son-in-law; she has spoken to people who, unbeknownst to her, have left the room though she carried on as if they were in front of her. She can never find her cane, even though you would think a cane would be an important accessory for a blind woman, and she is always able to retort with a witty comment when I constantly remind her of this.
One of my favorite mom stories is of the time were vacationing in PCB with family friends; and we ate at Margaritaville. She gets easily disoriented in low lighting or hard to navigate spaces. As we were leaving, she was clinging to a family friend for help. As she was exiting, she looked up at the large plane that hangs in the fake sky of the middle of the inside of the restaurant, and asked a friend, whose arm she was clinging to if she was outside or inside. At this same time, she came to the stairs leading outside and awkwardly (think cat with tinfoil on its feet) tried to find the step. This led to her next question "Are the stairs going up or down?" One thing you have to know about my mom is that she doesn't "look" blind, so people often look weirdly at her when she has trouble in public. I could see a lady with her eyes fixated on mom, watching her every move and word, and could see the judgy look on her face. When we finally made it outside, I laughed so hard because the woman thought mom was schnockered and clinging to some poor soul helping her outside. And mom laughed too.
That's the thing, she is able to laugh at herself and make fun of her mishaps when I think it would be so easy for most people to instead wallow in self-pity and feel depressed. Her true spirit of a strong and gracious and grateful woman shines forth best in her moments of hilarious misfortune. We joke about her being blind and all of the messes she gets in. And that cannot always be easy for her, because as funny as so many of her experiences are, there are an equal amount that no doubt would make anyone feel less than fortunate. Imagine being in a crowd and how ostracizing it must feel to miss out on a visual joke, to not know why everyone is laughing, trying to figure it out when maybe no one realizes or takes the time to stop and explain just what is so funny. Imagine how self conscious you would feel in a restaurant when eating in front of others and worrying about not being able to get your food to your mouth without creating a mess, dipping your fingers in your sauces by accident, missing your plate when trying to fork a bite, knocking over a drink by accident. Imagine not being able to enjoy going to the movies because you cannot see them, not being able to even see something beautiful like stars, which sighted people so easily take for granted, when out at night. Imagine being unable to read a book because you cannot see the print. (Ryder wanted mom to read to him one day and she tried to explain that she could not see the words because her eyes were broken. He couldn't understand, and as he pried her eyes open with his chubby fingers, he yelled "just look the words on the page!" He finally exasperatedly asked Shaun to read to him since Nana didn't know how to read.) Imagine having your four year old daughter photographed in a pint sized wedding gown because you feared you would not have any vision left to see her at her actually wedding as a grown woman. Imagine wanting so desperately to take part in the joy of looking at pictures or videos of family and friends (we are a huge picture family) but not being able to because you cannot see them; instead, you have to sit back and listen to others "ooh" and "ah" over the pictured adventures. Imagine how helpless you would feel when you enjoy cooking large meals for your loved ones but you cannot because it is too dangerous and too difficult to cook alone. Imagine being talked to by others as if you are slow simply because you cannot see (once a guy actually referred to her as "Ray Charles" in front of her, as if she couldn't hear him, when we were at a festival!) And imagine wanting so badly to be able to take on normal grand-parenting duties of babysitting, yet knowing it is impossible because you cannot see to change a diaper, to easily fix sippy cups and sandwiches, or to even know if the grand-kids are safely where they are supposed to be (especially when the grand-kids include the Mecham boys.) My mom's heart hurts at not being able to babysit my kids or my niece and nephews often. She feels like she is letting us down. Yet I am amazed that she still is willing to give it a go even though it is hard and messy and difficult for her. But that is the thing about my mom, she is always willing to try and to keep persevering. She always shines with happiness, love and God's grace. She has never been angry with God over her predicament. Instead, she has used her handicap to show God's love and mercy to those around her. All in all, she is as close to perfect as a mom can be.
Sure, we occasionally argue or fight. I get annoyed with her and her with me. But that is all normal mother/daughter behavior. At the end of the night though, she is always the one I want to call and tell my day to. I think about my relationship with her and am slightly saddened that I will never be able to reciprocate those same mother/daughter moments with a child of mine. I have decided, though, that it is okay because I probably couldn't do as good of a job anyway.
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