It is so strange sometimes how a simple, everyday family activity will cause me to think about deeper issues of my motherhood experience. Today, the kids spent a couple hours riding their bikes around the parking lot. In case anyone is concerned, my husband Luke, who is sighted, directed them and watched out for vehicles. As I watched them work on their speed and balance, I began to think and as I find I so often do, I am now turning those thoughts into writing. I hope they may be of some value to you.
I felt a bit of sadness in that I can't be the one to really, safely and effectively, oversee their bike riding attempts. Vision is a very essential ability to possess in this endeavor, as there is a constant concern about cars or running into poles or parked vehicles. I wondered if they were missing out because they can only ride their bikes when Luke is able to do this. It felt unfair to them.
I then began to think about the summer, when our apartment complex pool opens up. I realized that, as they are both still learning how to swim, I just don't feel safe taking both out to the pool by myself, at the same time. I am going to have to do a rotation, one day with Lexy and the other with Jon. I felt like they would be missing out, not getting to play together in the water. I wished I could give them that experience. I wondered what other things they would not get to do, as fully or in the best ideal, because their mother can't see.
But then, I realized a couple things. First, that every mother wonders this. Every mother wonders if there is more she could or should be doing, if she should be doing everything completely different, if she is doing right by her kids, etc. If it's not sight, then it's meals or screen time or sleep overs or... Well, you get the idea. This train of thought isn't just only a blind mother thing.
Then, I finally started to really pay attention to what was happening after each child would finish their lap. When Jon would come back from his, he would hang out with me, while Lexy went with Luke for her turn. Jon would excitedly tell me what he had done on his turn, how fast he went and what silly games Luke played with him to encourage him to go even faster. We would play a silly game we came up with, where he would drum on the handle bars and I would try to stop him by pushing his hands off. He would laugh and ask to keep playing.
When it was Jon's turn, and Lexy was with me, she and I would talk about how excited she was to have a bike. She would sit in my lap. She would ring her bike bell and then tell me what "bike was saying." She asked me if it was going to be sunny tomorrow and if we could have "swing time.", where I push her in the porch swing and we talk and/or pretend.
My lack of vision isn't stopping them and I from having fun experiences together. It may, by necessity, cause those activities to be one thing instead of another, but the experiences of mother and child are still happening. We are still connecting and growing together. We are still learning. Attachment and trust are still being shaped. This is true no matter what factor you may feel limits you as a mother. This is such a freeing and beautiful thing to realize. I am very glad I did and I hope you will also.
