Parenting Versus Reverse Parenting Or A Tale of Pureed Foods

When it comes to parenthood, there are moments that stick out. Moments where you think, “OK, I need to mentally bookmark this blip in time because it’s special.” I have those moments from time to time with my daughter. I also have other moments … moments where I think, “Huh, I’ve done this before.” Like the ti
me I fed my daughter solid food for the first (and second and third and fourth) time. It reminded me of the many times I sat and spoon-fed my own mother. On the one hand, the idea makes me sad; on the other hand, from a practical standpoint, I know that I need to carve out some time — regardless if I’m feeding my mom or my child.

That moment was one of a handful of other “moments” that I’ve experienced over the past six months. Yes, it’s are different. There’s certainly much more joy attached to the act of feeding my baby. And I must say, dealing with poop is a real pleasure when the pooper is a tiny bundle and not a full-grown woman who, at one time, was very stubborn and rather difficult due to her behaviors … a very common thing among folks with frontotemporal dementia (FTD)

Still, it’s a little surreal.

My mom’s dementia is a little bit like that movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Over the years, she’s regressed, considerably, from adult, to teen, to child, to (very difficult) toddler to infant. Today, she can’t walk; she can’t talk, and, right now, her food looks like the same pureed mush my daughter eats. Only fancier. In some ways, the two are like ships passing in the night…………. developmentally………… they’re both in diapers, they both eat the same type of food, they’re both non-verbal and both require full-time care.

But then, that’s what this disease does, it robs you and your family of possibility. And sometimes it robs you of hope.

A baby, on the other hand, gives you hope; in a child there’s possibility. There’s a future.

For me, there will always be moments, especially, when there are challenges….. like when my baby is a toddler and decides to create a scene. In public. I’ve been there with my mom…… same-same, but different.

I’m not sure if any of this makes me sad or if I’m sort of numb to it all. I think after a while, one becomes very good at detachment. It’s a survival thing. Detachment from emotions that might otherwise leave you in a depressed state for the rest of your life is probably a very healthy skill to develop when caring for someone with frontotemporal dementia or Alzheimer’s disease…

They’re there, but not really.

They’re alive, but they just stare.

They take and take and take, and, yet, give absolutely nothing back.

At least, with my daughter, while she takes, she also gives. That’s a wonderful thing. Because when life steals from you, to have a little person come into your world and fill your heart, well, that’s kind of a miracle.