Yesterday was the first time I was rota’d (if that is a word) to help care for an older lady in our church. This person (who I shall call ‘Barbara’ to protect her identity) is a totally unique and wonderful member of Ivy who has Down’s syndrome. I have always loved her, but until yesterday, had not had the privilege of caring for her at close quarters.

Like many people with DS, Barbara has certain “grooves of behaviour” which characterise her day. She has habits which help to make her feel safe and secure. So, she brings her flask of very strong tea to church, which she drinks, cup after cup, until it is all gone. She does not pause for breath. She then goes to the kitchen, refills it with tea, goes back into church, drinks it all down before going to the toilet to rinse it out. After 8 cups of tea she then needs a “comfort break.” (WHO WOULDN’T?!!) Fortunately for me, she is able to manage this task unaided.

As we were out and about in the foyer, Barbara said to me a number of times, “You’re hard work you are!” (one of her many little affectionate sayings.) She then waddled up to an (obviously female) timid-looking missionary manning a desk and cheerfully shouted “Hello George!” in deafening tones. (George is her ‘catch-all’ name for anyone she likes the look of.) The missionary looked alarmed and I compensated for Barbara’s greeting by explaining to the lady that she was being polite to her. Said missionary looked uncertain and as if she would quite like to run away.

So, I steered Barbara towards the cakes and biscuits in the hope that she would be tempted to partake. She stuffed a teacake into her mouth and promptly took another, motioning a ‘shush’ sign to me with her finger! No sooner had I sat her down and turned to get my drink than she had completely disappeared.

I felt sick. I went back to all the places we had been. The loo. No. The kitchen. No. The church area. No. I started to really panic. She can move quickly this woman.
Where had she gone?
I felt terrible. Here I was, meant to be in charge of this harmless little person and I had gone and mislaid her. Tears rose in my eyes and I couldn’t hold them back. I prayed. I asked for help. I panicked.
Barbara was found outside of the main church area by someone and all was well.

BUT, the whole experience left me feeling weak and helpless. In fact I sobbed all the way home. I felt so terrible. An utter failure.

Enter my remarkable children…

Esther: ” Ah! Poor Mummy. Don’t worry Mummy!”
Ben: ” You did your best Mummy. You’ll be even better next time!”
Sam : ” Mummy don’t worry. I think you did really well. She were so kind to her!”
Tom: ” God doesn’t think you have failed Mummy, and nor do we.”

It was so amazing to hear their little empathetic encouragements. Their reactions were SO what I needed to hear. When we got home I was showered with hugs and kisses and made to feel as though what I had done could be learnt from instead of shied away from.

I am so glad I have taught myself to be vulnerable in front of my children. They are not uncomfortable when people show emotion. In fact, they are skilled in handling it. I love it that whilst I am a totally flawed human being, my kids appear to have inherited such empathy and compassion for others.

I am also pleased that they realised that the kindest thing they could do for me was help Daddy cook some lunch and tidy my bedroom with me. By 2pm I felt like a new woman… and whilst my makeup had taken a bit of a battering and I looked like Kung Fu panda, my heart swelled with the happiness of knowing I am loved, even when I make mistakes.