This week I decided to post two entries, one which is in keeping with the theme of reflections on devotion in May-June 2014, and this one, which I wrote just before midnight on Saturday evening, after the beach trip. I was preparing to go to bed when it struck me that for the first time in 2 years, seeing happy, healthy peers of Paapa did not faze me at all, and I figured the feeling was worth recording, hence today’s post.

I know sometimes it feels like things will never get better, and sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever smile again. I promise you, you will. But you have to let yourself go through the motions, you have to go through the full process of grieving and healing; allow yourself to grieve Mama, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have every right to grieve. And one day, when you least expect it, you will throw your head back, slap your thighs, and laugh at some joke, and you will marvel how good it feels, just to be lighthearted again.

That day will come, Mama, that day will come when your pain will also take an “away day” like mine did on Saturday, and when it does Live it, Love it!

#IWalkWithYou

ps. The picture above is not Paapa doing the “peace” sign, one of the challenges we have with his cp is getting him to put his hands down (he’s very spastic) so he usually has his hands in the getting-to-do-the-“kentucky-fried-chicken-and-a-pizza-hut”- dance move (any Girl Guides in the house?!!) But at least in this picture, the pose works! #CoolDudeCoolMum

#WhosTheBoss

#ReturnOfThePaps

#RedefiningBeachBabes

 

cool pix1
sup G?

“AWAY DAY”

Today we went for a staff “away day” trip to the beach, and we decided to take Paps along, as he had never been to the beach before.

As you can imagine, we fretted over, worried about, and debated over and over again, the wisdom of taking the young man along, but since I’d promised him that he would go to the beach sometime soon,  in the end  we figured we’d at least give it a try, see how he took it.

Instead of joining the office bus, we decided to drive just in case we had to leave to avoid a total meltdown if Paapa got tired, uncomfortable or frightened by too many new sounds. I just prayed to God that our little “experiment” would not lead to any difficulties for the young man, (he has enough on a daily basis to deal with).

Ever since cp changed our lives, we’ve lived in dread of invitations to family get-togethers aka “bottom tree”, or some other public event (even taking Paapa to the hospital for weighing). I used to pretend Papa was unresponsive to some kindly relative or friendly person because he was sleepy or  like many children, was a little disoriented or unfriendly after having recently woken up. Sometimes I would try to weasel out of attending some of the functions, in order to avoid the pain and angst of seeing all the kids running around, screaming, dancing, having the time of their lives, while we were stuck indoors because Paapa does not enjoy loud sounds and generally dislikes parties and large gatherings. But today,  it never once occurred to me, to feel sad,or worried about how we would feel if we saw other kids of Pap’s age running around rambunctiously, eating, drinking what everyone else ate and drank, their parents being free to enjoy themselves and generally, everyone else having a good time apart from us.

I think it is because we are healing. Healing, not healed, because there will always be that bit of sorrow that will never go away, sorrow, for all that we lost, all the broken dreams, all the “joys of parenthood” that we did not experience- the gurgling, the cooing, the face, alit with pleasure at seeing “Mummy” or “Papa”, the crawling, the first hesitant steps… … For these and many others, there will be some sadness, but it will no longer hold us captive the way it did for 2 years, it will not prevent us from enjoying life, from teaching our son to experience as much as he can, in the best way that he possibly can.

We will not allow it to cripple us.

Before I come across as some tough, supermum, I have a confession to make: I’m still not good with birthdays. Those are some of the most difficult days in the year. Coming from a family as large as mine, and belonging to the current group of young parents, there are several kids’ parties to which we are invited. In the past, we would debate whether to attend or not,  and cry all through the days immediately leading up to the date of the party, and pray everyday that God would help us to control ourselves, to restrain the tears that were (and still are) never too far away.

Recently, I attended a first birthday party, and as bad as it sounds to admit it, I was actually relieved that Paapa had suddenly become ill that very morning, thereby sparing me from having to take him along, and spend the time comparing him with the other children, and myself with the other mothers, find us both inadequate and waste the rest of the week crying. Even with that one, after getting home, I threw myself a pity party and offloaded the heaviness in my chest.

I don’t think it ever gets easier; but I tell you, we get stronger, and we get wiser.

These days, I have decided to choose which birthdays to attend, I refuse to deal with the guilt that inevitably follows the bouts of crying, so like my battles, I will pick which parties I am strong enough to handle. If you do not see us at yours, please forgive us; we gain more strength everyday, and in time we will conquer all our demons and be free to go wherever, whenever!

Today though, allow me to bask in the warmth of this victory. I was not sad all day, even though there were children of or about Paps’ age there. All I cared about was my son’s comfort, and I fed him his nice pureed yam and vegetable stew without a thought to what people would think or say about our unusual eating process. Even giving him water and juice in the usual way we do at home, i.e. via a syringe, which I am usually uncomfortable about doing when we are out in public, did not bother me as much as it used to.

Slowly, but ever so surely, our hearts are mending, and “…it will be hard we know, and the road will be muddy and rough, but we’ll get there, Heaven knows that we will get there, we know we will!”

Mya Barnes

16th July, 2016