It is very difficult to write about Lauren without including
stories of the old Lauren. I asked myself
why? If I was to write about any of my other children, I probably wouldn’t have
any issues describing them without mentioning their past. That little nugget of
information made me realize what a disservice I am doing to all that is great
about present day Lauren. Having a child who has survived the impossible is a
constant battle within myself of choosing whether or not I am thankful for what
I have or sad for what I have lost. When I am with her, I am l always thankful.
During the quiet moments alone, the deep sorrow begins to creep in and overstay
its welcome, just like an unwanted house guest. How do I fix this? I wish I had
an easy answer.
When I
begin my day, Lauren has already unloaded the dishwasher and put a new filter
in my coffee pot in preparation for her crabby mother to roll down the stairs. Even with severe brain damage she knows enough
to realize that coffee will transform her mother into something that is almost
pleasant by the third cup. She gets up
early so she can prepare everything for her day. Her clothes are normally laid
out the night before, she checks her schedule over and over again on her iPhone.
She writes in her journal, gets herself breakfast (normally a granola bar),
checks social media and gets everything ready to start her day.
Her morning
routine is more of a ritual than a routine and nothing will get in her way, NOTHING.
I honestly believe if the house was on fire she would first, put her toothbrush
in the correct spot, make sure her bag is packed and ready for the day (for the
fifth time) and stuff 25 to 30 extra Kleenexes in her purse, right next to the
25 or 30 that she didn’t use yesterday. Then and only then would she be okay with
making a mad dash for the front door. As someone who has spent almost 50 years
flying by the seat of my pants, this new improved Lauren is often difficult for
me to manage. She has been taught errorless learning in therapy. An example of
this type of strategy is always having her purse in the exact same spot and never
deviating from the order of daily tasks. This takes the pressure off and allows
her to do things without her brain having to process difficult concepts. When
something varies from the norm or one of her therapies is canceled you can see and
feel her extreme anxiety and bewilderment.
If she
receives a new medication and the instructions are to take it at noon, she takes
it 15 minutes early each day until it reaches her maximum of 45 minutes early. When I try and make her wait, she is consumed
with the thought of forgetting for the next 45 minutes. She can focus on nothing
else. I have realized that 45 minutes early is better for her than 45 minutes
with her brain in constant chaos. The concept of time is tough for her, every single
day she puts her coat on and grabs her purse 10 minutes before it is time to
go. There have been times where she has walked out of an early morning workout
20 minutes early because she had something scheduled at 6 pm and she wanted to
make sure she didn’t miss anything.
These are all things that make me a
little crazy. I once read a great quote that made me really think about how
hard things are for her. “I may be living with TBI, but she is living “IN” it.”
There is a big difference and I cannot begin to think for one second that I
could truly understand how hard life is for her. I have no other choice but to
watch as she continues to do things that don’t make much sense like; bolting
out of bed in the middle of a deep sleep when she hears the mail truck, constantly
picking lint or hair off my sweater resembling
a monkey grooming their young, calling a waitress over to pick up a straw
wrapper on our table, these are all things that a normal brain can ignore. Lauren’s
brain is far from normal, it is damaged and not just a little bit of damage. A piece
has been removed, and an MRI showed that many sections throughout her brain have
died, resulting in the same type of damage as someone who has suffered from shaking
baby syndrome.
With all of this knowledge, why can’t
I just be thankful with the many things she does right instead being annoyed
with the insignificant things that she does wrong? My best guess is because I
feel like I have failed her somehow. I take credit for her failures but don’t
take credit for her successes, Moms are funny like that, doesn’t matter what
the situation is, when your kid screws up, the mom guilt comes at you like a 90-mph
fast ball. When I see someone else’s kid in trouble I never think, “Wow, her
mom must have done something to cause her to do that.” Why can’t I give myself
the same respect? Just part of motherhood, I guess.
Lauren has recently embarked on
doing public speaking, this is something that really excites her. Many times, I wonder if I am doing the right
thing by encouraging her in this direction, After all, she does have a severe
speech deficit….. Despite this little road block, she finds a way to make the
audience fall in love with her the minute they lay eyes on her. They hang on
her every word. Her poise and confidence along with her comedic timing are always
on point. She insists on buying a new outfit for every presentation, we call it
retail therapy.
When I share with her when she has
received another inquiry on her website, she always remembers to follow up to see if a date has been booked and if not, why not? She is a tough boss
and I love every second of it. Lauren
has found a sense of purpose again and it’s great to see her walk with her head
a little higher and an extra spring in her step.
