As a child, strangely enough, I never felt different from other children. My mother was visually impaired and around the age of six it became known that I was also visually impaired.
I soon went to special education for blind and visually impaired children. After school I played with the neighborhood children. I think I had already automatically taught myself tricks, so my disability didn't really bother me. For example, I stayed close to the children a lot, so that I couldn't lose them so quickly. Of course I missed a lot, but I just didn't know any better. That's how it was during my adolescence. I've always said it didn't make my life worse.
But then… I had children of my own. And only then did I realize how bad my eyesight is and how much I'm actually missing. That realization was and is very painful. So many little things that you miss.
You bring them to playgroup for the first time. All the mothers look through the window and I hear them say something about their child, but I didn't see my child. And when I picked them up I thought: “How do they look? Are they happy? As long as they see where I stand.” That often went well. They also knew no better than that their mother is visually impaired.
Christmas performances from school? “Of course I'll come and have a look, skat!” But I often couldn't even find them on stage. And how would they look? Would they have fun? They often asked their father, but it is still no fun not being able to see your own child or not being able to see them properly.
Sometimes they went to play with a classmate. If the address was not already known to me, it could also be quite a search. They often helped me by reading the house number. Things often turned out well, but I can still remember that the search was not pleasant. When a friend came to play with us, I found it especially exciting the first time, because you don't know the child. Soon they won't stay in the playground and I will have to visit them.
And so I also had rascal girls, who could often take advantage of the fact that their mother did not see well. If you don't feel like coming home, just don't answer when you hear your mother calling. When their father came home and I asked him where the girls were, he said: “They are just here in front of the house.”
Yes, I'm glad they're older now. The oldest two are teenagers and the youngest is also starting to puberty. When they were just entering puberty, it was sometimes confrontational. Sometimes they were a bit ashamed when a new friend came to play. Fortunately, this passed quickly. I have always been open about it with friends.
I don't think my girls are much bothered by the fact that I am visually impaired. I find it much more annoying and, as I already wrote, also painful. But the most important thing is that I always try to stay positive. Doing things with them that I can do. Like dancing in the old days and being silly or baking cookies.
And now they are a good age and you can go shopping with them and I no longer hear them talking about how ashamed they are. I can also chat with them. The eldest sometimes says: “It doesn't bother me at all that you can't see well. It's just like that. I'm used to it and I think it's amazing how you do everything.” Well, that's nice to hear, isn't it? That makes me feel good.
I am very proud of my girls! We have a nice time together. And so slowly the pain has diminished. I see they are doing well. I'm happy that I can sense a lot. Because I miss seeing, I feel things more quickly, I think. This is how I discovered that I now don't have to see their eyes to know how they are doing. I don't need to hear them either. Immediately upon entering I feel whether they are happy or not. And I think many blind or visually impaired mothers recognize this. Never doubt your feelings. This is always correct. And whether you are blind or partially sighted or sighted, you are a good mother. And especially when you want to be this way!
