An epistle from a mother of a child with disability

For the 8 years I have been 'Mothering' a child with disability, I haven’t really been amused by the Mother’s Day celebration fuss. For me it’s another moment my million questions have no answers, my expected miracle seems far fetched, prayers yet to be heard, efforts and sacrifices seem inefficient.

I am however quick to acknowledge that I do receive significant number of wishes on that day and I reciprocate same. Mothers celebration Sunday church services are quite interesting and I wouldn’t miss out, wearing my usual charming smile but deep within me lays a bleeding heart and fury

What’s the point in celebrating when my own angel couldn’t call me mother, mama , mum or anything that would make me respond to. As an orphan and a single mum with a child with disability, my joy and pride of motherhood is incomplete until the day my child functions normally.

I do remember a day my angel was in crisis and had run out of cash to seek medical care . Oh life! You bet, that inability, lack and under resource opened my flood gates of tears , guilt and the 'why me’s'. I sat in my couch boiling over how the negligence of a medical practitioner and midwife could bring me the worse, wondering what I could have done wrong or right during pregnancy. Could it be fate or ill luck? Certainly not a happy mother, who would want to join the band wagon in celebration.

The thought of another year being here again makes my world sink in despair. My countenance unbearable and honestly my faith questionable. Obviously not a happy Mother whiles others do celebrate. I look forward to a day the balm of Gilead would divinely rub on my beautiful daughter so she will be able to do what all other children do and wish me “Happy Mother’s Day“ so I could be happy again . Hmmm

My fellow mothers who can relate, transformation has come. This year I resolve to be happy. Change my perspective of life and celebrate myself. I opt for self confidence and high esteem. I refuse to trade my joy in exchange of life’s uncertainties. Medical conditions that doctors and healers have no antidote for. I may not be able to transform my child into society and culture’s definition of the normal, but I do have absolute control over its effect on my life. I choose to dominate disability and never allow disability to control my destiny and that of my loved ones. I am a proud Mother of a disabled child and absolutely Beautiful Regardless!


Pathula Esi Kwaw