Little Caregiver

Little Caregiver

Zula is quite the amazing girl. I am sure that every parent thinks their kid is the best, most amazing, smartest, etc, and I am just like the rest of them. But really, on some levels, I don’t think Zula is just like the rest of other kids. I feel so amazingly inadequate as a mom in a wheelchair, there are many things I feel bad about. I feel bad we can’t stop at whatever park we want to and go play on the slides, I feel bad I can’t climb the front steps with her when we deliver stuff to our neighbors (she is terrified of going by herself), I feel bad I can’t walk her to her preschool door each morning but instead have to wave goodbye from the car as I watch my 2-year-old march up the steps all by herself like a warrior.

Before this sounds like a sad blog post, I will say here that I understand that she came to me and my family because she could learn things from me and this family set up that will help her accomplish her specific and unique missions and purposes in this life. I know this. But knowing this doesn’t take the sharpness away as I try so hard not to covet other moms’ abilities as they seemingly so easily care for their own kids.

Being in a wheelchair has some specific challenges with motherhood, but being a pregnant mom in a wheelchair has brought a whole new set of hard. I am not very far along, only starting my second trimester, and I have been incredibly sick. It has been so difficult to be a mom or a wife or just somebody who can stay upright in my wheelchair. It is getting better, but my husband snapped this picture recently.

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Yes. This is me laying on the couch in the only position I could find comfortable with my sweet little 2-year-old holding the bowl for me to throw up into. And this isn’t an isolated event, whenever she thinks I am going to vomit, she runs and grabs a bowl and comes and holds it for me. She fixes my feet when they are crooked and she pulls down my sweater when it rides up in the back. It is quite the reversal of roles as she doesn’t let me fix her clothes at all (or choose them…) – she is so amazingly independent and able. I know that my disabilities have made room for her to grow her own abilities. But more than that, I am so glad she’s not just independent and able, but loving and kind and caring. If I had to be disabled to get this kind of awesome kid then it was 100% worth it, not that I can take any credit for the way she is turning out. As hard as I try to do things the way other moms do them it’s because I can’t that gives her the freedom to grow into the amazing girl she is becoming.

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