In the following extract from her inspiring memoir Raising Tiffany, writer and life-coach Deborah Trenchard shares some heartfelt realisations about the true meaning of motherhood

 

The best in me was born out of having a child with complex developmental challenges, with special needs. ‘How could that be?’ Someone asked recently, eyeballing me quizzically from head to toe.  And without a moment’s hesitation I shared some of the deepest realisations I’ve had over the years as I mothered Tiffany.  

I’ve learned what “less is more” – the simplicity of life – really means.  And I’ve had the opportunity to comprehend what it is like to “live in the moment”, as the modern day gurus would encourage.

During Tiffany’s final days, final hours, I looked on as the Phlebotomist took blood samples; as the nurses increased the oxygen levels; as her blood pressure was taken; drugs administered, etc.  But most distressing of all, for me, was being an “observer” of her desperate struggle. How fearful had she been, I’d wonder during the loneliness and despair that would grip me during the night. In those moments, those seemingly endless hours, I’d sit immobilised, powerless to do or change anything for her. I couldn’t, as much as I would have liked to, relieve her pain, her discomfort, her despair.  Sometimes I felt like offering my arm to the Phlebotomist as she searched, desperately, for a “good” vein.  ‘Take it from me.’ I felt like shouting. 

 

Now two years on, I would sometimes re-cap Tiffany’s ordeal in my mind, as any parent would, wondering what could I have done more of, if anything at all, to make her feel more relaxed? If only slightly.  One day I realised that just being there was enough. I had, essentially, fulfilled my function as a mother.  There was absolutely nothing more I could have done. And indeed, from a wider, and a more spiritual, perspective, nothing more had been “expected” of me.

 

That was the moment I put the whole experience into a more spiritual context; the moment my anguish disappeared; the day the questions ceased to surface in my mind.  And during those “enlightening” moments; those moments of transparency, I fully understood that I was powerless to change my daughter’s itinerary (the unavoidable destiny) she had to traverse throughout her short lifetime. No matter how much I wanted to, or wished I could. I simply couldn’t.  In the same way that I couldn’t sleep, breathe, or eat for her, I couldn’t halt her “ordeal”. It was her life, her journey; something over which I had no control.  A fact.  A harsh reality.

 

On a much lighter note, Tiffany and I parted knowing that there had been lots of love – from beginning to end. In true James Joyce fashion, she came, she loved, she laughed; and when the time was right for her exit, she left.  She departed having had a full and eventful life. She left having had a profound impact on a number of people’s lives.

 

In essence, the most important thing is how we leave this world; how many lives we’ve touched; how we will be remembered.  As a life coach I’ve had a number of female clients who’ve said during our sessions: ‘I don’t want to repeat what my mother did to me.’ What they’re really saying is: I do not want my daughters to recognise the parts of me that I identify (negatively) as ‘my mother’s’. Consequently, these women continue to do battle within themselves, as I’d done. So I’d ask them: how would you like your daughters to see you? What do you need to do, to change, in order for your children to benefit from what your mother left you?   They usually cringe at this point!  

 

Because I turned it around in myself, as I encourage my clients to do, I am now able to appreciate, and learn from, some of the great things my mother left behind.  That day, as I listened to those who paid tribute to her share encouragement they had been given, I was in awe of my mother. I could only hope that the same would be said of me.

 

The question is: why do we wait until the final moment to forgive, to learn, to share, to appreciate, selflessly?

 

An extract from RAISING TIFFANY – Portrait of a Special Girl by Deborah Trenchard

Deborah's life-coaching website