Dear Yummy Mummies,
I am honored to be addressing you today through this wonderful website. It can’t be understated that a mother’s influence, love and devotion lie at the heart of most families. Unfortunately, I am not one of you. I like to think of myself as a Yummy Daddy, since that is what I am. A Dad, a very lucky Dad, who was blessed with three beautiful daughters. On June 14th, 2000, after a three-year battle with cancer, my oldest daughter Lainie died of her disease. Since then, I have been working with parents like me, parents whose children have faced life-threatening and chronic illness, and despite the outcome of the child’s disease, needed the help and guidance to navigate the road of this traumatic and many times, devastating journey.
I remember seeing a comedian once who did a bit on how men and women think. He presented one box with all these neat little square compartments, each one representing a part of a man’s brain. Whenever the man needed to resolve a problem, he went to the respective box and found his solution there. Then he presented the woman’s brain box filled with wires of different colors, crisscrossing each other in an infinite display of connections. I laughed out loud at the comparison, but upon reflection, and eleven years of working with parents who have cared for sick and dying children, I realized how accurate this comparison was when you think about how women and men cope, how we process the over-whelming challenge of trying to save our child and our family.
In a normal world, dads are usually the fixers, restoring order to the home when the kids get too crazy; moms are the nurturers and care-givers, doling out sympathy and a hug to dry those tears. But in the world of chronic illness, those stereo-types get swept away in the urgency of care. Roles get reversed, marriages get stressed, kids get anxious, and your once totally normal life is anything but.
So how do two parents—who think and process so differently—help each other cope?
The first step is to accept the fact that each spouse does cope differently, and to acknowledge that process and be understanding of it. It needs to happen. Each parent must and will find his or her own way of getting through the hard times, but not without the love and understanding of his or her spouse.
Secondly, coping is not something you need to do alone. Marshall your forces—your family and friends—and bring them in to help. Being an island of fortitude only leads to isolation and exhaustion. A chronically ill child requires a great deal of care and as a parent, it’s hard to let go of the feeling that you, and only you, can care for your child. This is a myth. You need a break! Whether it’s with or without your spouse, time to meet your own individual and personal needs only make you a better care-giver, parent and spouse. And a nice romantic dinner doesn’t hurt things either! And after dinner, well...
I want to leave you with one more piece of advice. When Lainie was battling, our family mantra was “Keep It Normal.” In the crazy world of chronic illness, abnormal becomes the norm, and you have to work together to not allow the obstacles of illness to define your life and how you and your family live. This is probably the greatest coping advice I can give you; accept the bad times, cherish the good times, and always, Keep It Normal.
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