Thursday, May 7, 2009

I carry it with me and I keep walking

Mothers get a lot - a lot of bliss and a lot of woe, and hopefully some homemade cards and sticky kisses.

So many women are posting on their blogs and online sources lately about their sorrows. Bloggers great and small are exploring their grief and sharing that experience with the blogosphere. Our online friends have shared with us their losses that are so very great, such as Heather Spohr writing about finding her way in a world without her Maddie Moo, or TeacherMommy's family members facing cancer in a family that has already faced huge loss.

I have been grieving, grieving the loss of my daughter's potential for perfect motor skills, and the uphill battle we will face in every new physical action she will take. I have been sad, and angry and sad again. I have been sad when I should be happy, and panicked when I should be merely sad. The twin demons of guilt and self doubt have plagued me. Every time I end a physical therapy session and wonder if we've done enough at that time I know I will question my abilities every day. And I cry, for my beautiful girl who will have to work so hard. I know my grief is not the biggest I might be required have to handle, but I wanted my daughter to be well, to do well, to roll and sit and crawl and walk with normal efforts instead of extraordinary efforts, and to be a person who didn't have cerebral palsy. This grief is mine, even if I didn't want it to be.

I didn't want to have to do it, I don't want to still, but I will. I will be the brave little toaster. This is what mothers do. Shoulder to the wheel, nose to the grindstone, taking steps when crawling seems too big, mothers walk on, because in between those battles great and small are the greatest joys of her life: the touch of the baby's hand on her face, the joy in seeing her little one laugh, watching the child learn to negotiate the world around him.

Universe, I accept your challenge, and challenge you. Like all these moms who rally in the face of the pain they are dealt, I throw down the gauntlet. Next time you deal out damage you may get a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. Happy Mother's Day. Universe, you have been served.


  1. And as a reward, I believe you will have a closeness with your sweet girl that not every mother gets, for every day she will witness your incredible love for her.

  2. I am constantly amazed by parents who take on the challenges of their children with such strength. Even when you feel so vulnerable, so hopeless, so alone and angry, you deal with it. You keep pushing forward, because they are your child, and you would move mountains for them. My older brother works with severely autistic children who also exhibit symptoms of OCD, schizophrenia etc. So, I see what an extreme challenge it is. I have so much respect for these parents. YOU ARE AMAZING! Raising any child is a challenge enough. I can just tell your children are so lucky to have a mom that loves them so much.

  3. Oh my fans, I love that you love me. I love you back. May I offer you a glass of wine? Need a shoulder rub? Tea and cookies? I think I'll be funny again next week.

  4. Wow. You have an amazing story. I just gave birth to a little girl and cannot imagine your grief and admire your strength.

    I originally just wanted to stop by and let you know that I laughed out loud when I read your 'food story' on GGC!!!

    Happy Mother's Day!

  5. A note to the Mrs. - I will make you laugh out loud again, I promise. Just gotta work through some stuff . . . now, how about that glass of e-wine, or some prescription drugs? Cookie?

  6. hope you had a happy mother's day as well. mothering is such an underappreciated profession.

  7. Mrs. G - I may be underappreciated because I suck at it . . .