What my parents got right - Parenting the Differently-abled Part I

My parents never expected to have a differently-abled child and back in the mid-seventies comparatively little was known about cerebral palsy. Both my parents had to 'learn on the job.' I can't imagine it was easy for them, but they did the best they could with the limited resources available to them at the time.

The fact that I am sitting here now typing this blog is a testament to the amazing job they did. In this first of a three-part series on parenting the differently-abled, I want to look at my mom and dad and how they motivated me, each in their own unique way. They got a lot of things right and in subsequent blogs, we will look at all those things, but for this blog, I want to look at one particular thing each of them excelled at when it comes to raising a differently-abled child (and me in particular):

My Mom - Cheerleader, Mother-Lioness  

Mom and me

As far back as I can remember my mum fought for me, she fought for me to have the same opportunities as anyone else. She fought for me to have as normal a life as possible given my circumstances, but most of all she cheered me on, telling me, sometimes without words, that I can do anything I put my mind to.

My mom is one tenacious lady and now in my mid-forties, I can admit that at least some of that tenacity has rubbed off on me. I'm very thankful that it did and for her example throughout the years, I'd never have gotten as far as I did without it.

She also taught me, by example, about work ethics. I do believe my habit of planning things out, making schedules and sticking to them, come from her. All these things are very handy when it comes to plotting a novel and the perseverance needed to finish it.

The truth is without mom's quiet, steady example of doing what needs to be done (even when doing what needs to be done is the very last thing you feel like doing) I would never have completed one novel, let alone three.

If she hadn't encouraged and prayed and cheered me on every slow, halting step of the way, the thought that I could even try to write anything would never even have occurred to me. Without my mom 'Freeda Moon' wouldn't exist. 

Dad - Encouraging the Whimsy in Me

Dad and I...

My dad, now he was the one who first showed me there was magic in the mundane.

I was about ten when I saw an episode of the animated series Sinbad the Sailor. This particular episode featured a mermaid. Now I've always had a vivid imagination, but I'll never know why the image of that one childishly-drawn mermaid had such a profound effect on me.

I must have gone on and on about it that weekend when I came home from Boarding School because my dad got out the encyclopedias and found every reference to mermaids he could. That weekend I learned about the Greek sirens who sank ships by leading sailors astray with their beautiful voices and also about sea-creatures named Duegons, which scientists believed was one possible explanation for the belief in mermaids. (Dad always made sure to balance fantasy with logic.)

From mermaids, it was a short step to faeries and he seemed to relish telling me his theories on how the beliefs in faeries originated. He told me the story of the Cottingley-photographs, and even showed them to me, having had a copy of a magazine in which they were re-published long after the fact. He also made sure to tell me that the photographs were faked, but that did not matter to me. A small flame had been lit inside my heart.  

Looking back I realize that lots of things grew from that one moment in time. Many of which still affect my life today. My love of mystery, of myths and legends and of ancient culture and history. All the things that my dad and I had in common.

Dad also always believed I'd be a writer. He saw potential, he saw a flicker of a spark and he fanned it into a flame, encouraging me to write stories over the holidays. He also, perhaps unconsciously, steered me towards my chosen genre fantasy/folklore and historical/fantasy.

Dad and his five daughters - From left to right -Teresa and I, Marieta is in the middle, Melinda is holding Chrizette with  dad standing at the back

 He passed away in 1994 and never saw me become what he knew I would be. I often wonder what he would've thought of my novels. I hope he would've been proud...

Regards 

Freeda Moon

Next week: Pitfalls - Parenting the differently-abled Part II