Failing Motherhood

Photo by Margaret Weir on Unsplash

Wow. June 27th- the last time I wrote an article. Pretty disappointed it’s taken me this long to get back into it. I knew exactly what I was going to write about, however, it felt too real to put on paper.

I’m ready to talk about it now.

If you have read my past articles, you would know I was born with a condition called left hemiparesis where some signals from my brain do not reach the left side of my body. I’ve had to teach myself to gain strength and movement with the help of physical/occupational therapy, surgeries… (and not to mention perseverance and patience throughout the years.)

Most people can move their hands and wiggle their fingers instinctively. When I use my left hand for anything, I have to tell myself to open it. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been able to wiggle my fingers- only at a snail’s pace if that. Some days, my left hand stays balled in a fist. I sometimes have to pry it open with my right hand. This happens on a daily basis.

It hasn’t been easy, but I also don’t know any different.

With all of this being said, over a month ago our family friend’s 2-year-old son came to my family’s shore house. I adore him. We were having a blast with him for hours.

At one point. My sister was holding his hands so she could flip him upside down- he loved this. What kid doesn’t? I know I did when I was younger. Eventually, my sister got tired after flipping him probably 10 times.

I then started having a conversation with my sister.After a few minutes, I felt little hands on my left hand. I looked down and he was trying to grab my hands so he could flip over as he did with my sister. He attempted to grab my hands and climbed up my legs to flip.

As I said previously, it’s difficult to open my left hand. It wouldn’t open and therefore wouldn’t have been safe to flip him as he wanted.I quickly stopped him and I, unfortunately, told the poor 2-year-old I was unable to do this.

He looked at me with genuine confusion which turned into a cry because I couldn’t open my hand. He simply thought I didn’t want to play with him.

I was devastated. I had to step outside and began to cry myself. I suddenly saw flashforwards into my future when I have children of my own. How am I going to change a diaper one-handed? How will I tie their shoes when I can barely tie my own? If I have a girl, how am I going to do her hair? How will I dress them? A ton of laundry? I have a tough time folding my clothes as it is. More dishes? It takes me twice as long as the average person to clean them.

How this…? What happens if…? What will I do when…?

A ton of crazy scenarios flooded my mind. “I’m going to fail as a parent,” I thought. “It would be selfish to have them. I’ll just disappoint my kids.”

I took a step back and realized how ridiculous I sounded.

“Wait for a second, Rachel. You have been dealing with this all of your life. For nearly three decades, you have done almost anything anyone can do, with pure creativity and modification. You will be a successful mother and love your children as much as they will love you. You will teach them to become independent so they can help around the house to make your life easier and efficient.”

Listen, I’ve had my fair shares of obstacles. It’s just how you deal with them. I know that I will be an incredible mother. Truthfully, my children won’t know any different with how I do things around the house. They will accept my flaws and love me for who I am and what I do.

I’m excited to see how my future will turn out. Until then, I’m going to keep writing and share more of my experiences.

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Writing is my therapy. Here to tell my story.

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Rachel Gordon

Rachel Gordon

Writing is my therapy. Here to tell my story.

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