Like Daughter, Like Mother

Most daughters long to follow in their mother’s footsteps—they watch their mother and desire to grow up to be just like them.  They dress up, struggling to walk in high heels.  Daughters try out their mom’s makeup, and play house with their own baby dolls.  Daughters model their mother’s behaviors starting at a very young age. 

Most mothers work to set an example for their daughters, of what they should work towards as they grow up, to be an example of characteristics their daughters should strive to emulate.  However, none of these things describe the relationship between my oldest daughter and me.  I am not one of those mothers.  I am the mother of a daughter with special needs, a daughter who already has a perfect and celestial spirit.  Instead, I look to her as my example of all the characteristics I hope to develop in my life. 

The saying goes, “Like Mother, Like Daughter” as daughters grow into developing the same characteristics as their mothers.  However, the last several months have shown me that in my case, I hope the phrase would more accurately be, “Like Daughter, Like Mother.”  I do desire to have more pure Christ-like traits like my daughter Annie has, but the last few months have gone even beyond that.

Many of you that know Annie well already know that she has dislocating kneecaps.  One in particular is worse, dislocating several times a day despite surgery to fix it several years ago.  It’s become a normal thing throughout our day, checking to make sure her kneecap is in place before moving her or transferring her to or from her wheelchair, or checking her knee very first when noticing that she’s upset about something.  The grooves that her kneecaps should glide in are very shallow, and with her high muscle tone also, her kneecaps can easily slip out of place, especially when she has her seizures.  This is where the statement “Like Daughter, Like Mother” has become particularly true over the last several months.  You see, I “inherited” my knees from my daughter.

Near the end of the summer, I started noticing that my knee would click and grind every time I bent it, particularly when going up or down the stairs.  It didn’t hurt and I didn’t think much of it, although the sound was like nails on a chalkboard to me.  The clicking and grinding continued regularly for several weeks before the pain started.  I began having severe pain behind my kneecap, making it impossible to go up and down stairs without using the handrails as a crutch to eliminate bending or bearing weight on my painful knee. 

After researching my symptoms online, I was certain I had chondromalacia—inflammation of the cartilage behind my kneecap.  The mystery, however, was that I had not been running or straining my knee at all, and had not suffered any kind of injury to cause the chondromalacia.  The only change in my life that may have contributed to this problem was the fact that Annie had gained about 10 lbs in a 2 month period (now weighing 60 lbs).  Annie is fully dependent for all transfers in and out of her wheelchair or bed, and our only thought was that the added weight of her has stressed my knees more than usual. 

My dad, a retired physician, believed that the chondromalacia was most likely caused by my kneecap not tracking correctly in its groove.  Guided by my dad, I started my own physical therapy in September, doing exercises at home that would strengthen the muscles around my knee to help my kneecap track more properly in its groove.

By late November, the pain had only continued to increase, making it nearly impossible to go up and down stairs, or even go to the store to get groceries.  We started realizing that I might have a bigger issue going on and I went to see an orthopedic surgeon. 

My x-rays revealed that I have my daughter’s knees.  The grooves that my kneecaps should slide in are very shallow, causing my kneecaps to want to pull out to the side just like my daughter’s.  In addition, my tendons connecting my kneecaps to my shins are also genetically placed much more laterally than they should be, which is also working to pull my kneecaps out of their grooves.

The orthopedic surgeon told me that I was a perfect candidate for a rather invasive and uncommon surgical procedure to move my laterally-placed tendons more in proper alignment, and eliminate the pull they have on my kneecaps in the wrong direction.  But before jumping into surgery, the orthopedist sent me home with a prescription medication and orders for outpatient physical therapy at the hospital several days a week.

I left the orthopedist feeling discouraged and overwhelmed.  I don’t have time for several physical therapy appointments at the hospital each week, I thought.  And I definitely don’t have time to recover from an invasive knee surgery! Going to the doctor was supposed to make everything better—I wanted and needed a quick fix for this chronic pain.  But then I thought of Annie.

Nothing for Annie has been a quick fix.  For most of her problems, she won’t get a “fix” at all in this life.  The last few months as I’ve struggled with my own chronic pain, I’ve also gained a greater appreciation for Annie, who deals with pain far worse than mine.  Annie has had more surgeries than I ever will.  She faces difficult medical issues every day, yet she is happy and finds joy in her life despite her challenges.  Even during past hospitalizations, she has found the strength to smile and laugh and brighten the lives of those around her.

I don’t know yet what will happen with my knees, but even if I need surgery requiring a long and difficult recovery, I know that Annie is my strength and inspiration.  So although I “inherited” my daughter’s bad knees, I hope that is not all that I’ll be able to say I got from her.  I hope that I can follow her example and learn to face my own challenges with the same grace and patience that Annie does.  And maybe someday, “Like Daughter, Like Mother” might accurately reflect all that Annie has given me, and maybe someday I can grow up to be just like her.