Becoming a mom makes you a natural caregiver, but having one of your children suddenly paralyzed is a different level of caregiving that was not even in my imagination.
Zack, my oldest child, broke his neck in a beach accident when he was 15. Instantly the life we knew was gone, and a new life path was forced on our family. I ran a photography business and raised my children at the time of injury. I had no idea that all that would change in an instant. It’s hard to express the constantly changing emotions you feel going through this.
This was my boy, the most active of my 4 children, and now he’s lying abnormally still in a hospital bed. Hearing news that your child will never walk again or have use of his hands, they must be talking about someone else because you can’t even absorb it. Trying to wrap your head around what the Dr’s are telling you. The hospital becomes your new home for months at a time. They're showing you and teaching you things that you don’t want to learn.
Even over a decade later, I find it difficult to talk about those early months, even the first couple of years. I remember I had a tremendous amount of adrenaline. I was a super mom rising to every need of my son. I didn’t sleep through the night for over 3 years. I was determined to help my boy and was willing to do whatever I needed, which involved me becoming his full-time, 7 days a week caregiver. This left little time for my other 3 children, which was hard for them and me.
I can honestly say I gave and did my very best, but something had to give— that ended up being me. My needs were pushed to the side when that happens; it’s not going to end well. There were several times I hit a wall. The first was around that 3-year mark. I hadn’t cried or broken down. My son was a quadriplegic, and I was like a robot. I was holding it together. Most of the time, I did a good, even great job with moving Zack forward in his life, navigating the rest of high school now in a wheelchair, losing friends, college, and the stress of how this will work.
There was also lots of physical, occupational and talk therapy for Zack. I should have gone too. I can remember slowly getting angry, then angrier, tired, overwhelmed and burnt-out. I was so fiercely focused on Zack moving forward in life I completely forgot about myself. I managed to get through that season, expressing myself with very bad language. I was angry with everyone. Thank goodness that did pass. Zack and I learned how to communicate better and give each other space. Most moms and 18-year-old sons do not spend that much time together. Zack was just at the age he should be out experiencing life as a young adult.