The human brain is truly an amazing thing, and for some of us (like yours truly), the brain can be a scary thing too. Along with the runaway train that circles round and round in my head with this worry and that worry, that I can't seem to jump from, I am often amazed at how a certain sound, smell, or experience can trigger a memory in my brain that transports me to another place and time. A place that if not triggered, by some stimuli, would have remained buried deep in my scary brain never to be visited again. Last weekend, as I sat around an elegantly set table with fine China and stemware at the 2014 Day of Pampering, listening to a group of mothers whom all love and care for a child (or children) with various different abilities, I was magically transported back to a family trip to Sea World when I was twelve.
Although Shamu was the main attraction, I clearly remember watching the dolphin show while my friend, whom I begged my parents to bring along, remained in the hotel room throwing up her morning pancakes. My dad was forced to stay back with my friend in the hotel to oversee the vomit rather than see Shamu's water olympics. Like many dolphin shows, before bringing out the stars of the show, the trainers wanted to educate us lowly non-marine scientists with facts about dolphins. Although well intended, the kids in the audience did not hear a thing those trainers said because we were all too busy scanning the depths of the water waiting for a dolphin to appear while trying to refrain from screaming, "Who cares, just shut up and make the dolphin jump through the hoop!". I was 12 and I didn't care what a dolphin eats for breakfast, I wanted to see how high the dolphin could jump.
Among the many blah, blah dolphin facts the trainers presented to us unappreciative kids, there was one fact I distinctly remember (probably due to my early fear of shark attacks, which makes perfect sense growing up in Central Pennsylvania). I had known that dolphins were smart because I watched Flipper reruns, but, along with dolphins' intelligence, the trainer said that dolphins also display altruistic behaviors. Now at the time, I had no idea what altruistic meant, I just remember that this altruistic behavior was the reason dolphins had been known to save humans from shark attacks. Suddenly, my interest, and my oceanic survival skills peaked up. The trainer explained that dolphins display this altruistic behavior by supporting sick, injured or weaker dolphins in their pod by swimming under them for hours at a time and pushing them to the surface so they can breath. In addition to helping their fellow dolphins, dolphins have been known to assist other creatures outside their pod, even outside of their species.
These dolphin rescue tales go as far back as the Ancient Greeks who reported stories of dolphins saving humans as well as other animals. Altruism in animals describes various types of behaviors performed by animals that may help out another animal (or in some cases a human) even though it puts the animal at a disadvantage, and in some instances, puts them at risk. If you Google, "dolphin rescues", a list of various stories of dolphins coming to the aid of humans in shark attacks or humans at risk of drowning, pops up. Dolphins have been know to form a circle around a human being attacked by a shark while escorting them to shore. Dolphins have also been known to rescue four legged friends who get caught up in the ocean's tides. These dolphin heroes, who will put the needs of others before their own needs, may display such altruistic behavior due to some primitive instinct, or maybe it's something else. Something we non-dolphins can't understand.
As my memories of Sea World slowly returned to the recesses of my twisted brain, I returned to the present and listened to these mothers loving a child with a different ability and I was in AWE. As I sat mesmerized by these mothers who sacrifice sleep, spa days, careers, and their own personal dreams, I couldn't help but think of the beautiful, smart, altruistic dolphin. These mothers, like most mothers, push their child to the surface time and time again, often forgetting to come up for air themselves. Some may call it a mother's instinct, but, just like the dolphin, I believe it is something more. Something that those who are not weighted down by the water fail to understand.
Yes, these mothers' instinct is to first and foremost protect and care for their child, but the love they have for their child blinds them to the sacrifices they make day in and day out. I recognize that sacrificing comes with the role of being a mother whether you are loving a child with a different ability or not. However, after listening to these mothers, I can assure you that missing out on a girls night out or quitting your six figure salaried job in order to run three kids to various sporting events or activities, is a lot different than...cleaning out your child's ventilator or feeding tube...shopping for a new wheelchair instead of new soccer cleats due to your child's sudden growth spurt...or home schooling three children with different abilities because the ignorance of the educational system and the meanness of bullies became too much.
As I sat there, grateful that I was able to translate their dolphin speak, I was AWEnestly amazed. There was so much joy, so much laughter, so much pride in these mothers' joyful willingness to remain under the water while pushing their child to the surface. Not once did I hear a single complaint. Although these moms display altruistic behaviors similar to dolphins, these moms are not dolphins, they are human. I'm sure that they have days filled with sorrow, resentment, jealousy and anger, but, regardless of those emotions, these mothers are all able to find the sun illuminating at the surface while holding up their child, regardless of how deep and dark the water is that surrounds them. Mothers, who on most days, choose to focus on the joy, the love, the progress rather than the struggles, the unfairness and the missed opportunities. Their strength, their love, their determination, left me in AWE. I kind of felt like some creepy, shark circling and eavesdropping in this sacred circle.
Ryan's different abilities paled in comparison to many of the children that these amazing mothers love. Regardless of how deep our water is, or how long and how far we must swim, one thing every mother at the 2014 Day of Pampering had in common, is the joy we feel when even the smallest progress is made by our child. Progress that we feared would never come or were told by experts that would be highly unlikely. Some progress may only take a little nudge to get our child to the surface, while other milestones takes months and months of pushing, sinking, swimming and jumping through hoops. Those trials, those struggles, make each and every victory so much sweeter.
For nine months, a mother's heart and her child's heart are connected. Once a child is born, that child's heart beats independently, unconnected from it's mother. That is not the case for the mother. A mother's heart will never beat independently of their child's heart. A child's joy, triumphs, struggles, and heartaches are as real to a mother's heart as they are to her child's. This was never more evident to me than it was this weekend. The grace found in a mother's love is unparalleled to any other love. As I spoke to a mother whose 17 year old child has been wheelchair bound her entire life, she did not minimize her daughter's challenges or her own, but, this mother could still recognize that unlike a child with an ASD who may wander off, possibly getting hurt or lost, wandering is one challenge this mother does not need to worry about with her child. Another mother, who knowingly and willingly adopted and loves several children with multiple physical and neurological different abilities, told story after story with pride and laughter of how varied each one of her children's personalities are, not their different abilities.
I was beyond AWEstruck this weekend. Just like the dolphins who will push a struggling, disadvantaged, "different" dolphin to the surface for miles and miles with little regard to their own well being, mothers loving a child with a different ability are as altruistic as the dolphin. Often foregoing what most mothers take for granted, these mothers rarely look down at the darkness, but, almost always look up for the light. I discovered that there is no water deep enough, no water dark enough and no net big enough to stop these mothers from always making sure their child reaches the surface, regardless of the toll all the swimming, all the pushing, all the sacrificing has on them. You may not be able to see these mothers' fins or blowholes, but, I promise you, they are there, under the water waiting to resurface once their child has reached the top.
Some of you have requested the video from the Day of Pampering, so I included it here. As always thanks so much for your support and for believing, "different, not less".
Some of you have requested the video from the Day of Pampering, so I included it here. As always thanks so much for your support and for believing, "different, not less".
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