Inspirational Stories

This is the story of how my mother thought of and raised her handicapped child ME!!!

Cristina Miller

“There is no such word as can’t”

I thank the Lord for the mother I was given. My mom, well she is a 5’7” woman of sturdy build. Some may call her big boned. Her hair is a beautiful auburn color, which she retrieves from a box every two months to hide the gray. Sylvia; can always be seen with a Chesterfield non-filtered cigarette from her mouth and let us not forget the large bifocal glasses that continually hang by a chain around her neck.
In March of 1959, she received a 5 pound 4 ounce bundle from the stork. Considering she had already two kids before, she knew in her mind that there was something wrong with this one. The doctors assured her that what she had was a healthy baby girl. It was not until I began to crawl at six months, that my mother had the gum sun to return to the doctors’ office with her defective product. Laying me on the doctors’ table, she said, “Now look at this kid again and tell me there is nothing wrong!”
After an examination, the doctors agreed. “Yes Mrs. Mumm, your child has a birth defect; the name of the birth defect is Cerebral Palsy and has affected her entire left side. Satisfied that it is not just her imagination, she bundled me up and toted me off home to begin the raising of a handicapped child.
As I was growing up, I had several difficulties and encountered many obstacles. I remember a story told me by my father, about learning to walk when I was one year old. He said he always wanted to buy me, a football helmet, because I would continually fall and land on the back of my head. My mother would have nothing to do with that. She repeatedly told my father and others, “there is nothing wrong with her, that is just the way she is and she will learn in her own way”.
In 1961, my mother divorced my father, after having her fourth child. It was important to mom that she treat me no different from her other three children. She raised four children as a bookkeeper in a man’s world. In light of this, she instilled on all of her children (especially me), that there is no such word as “can’t”. She would tell us, “Yes, you can do this or that, just figure a way and it is possible.” To all of us it meant that it was up to us shape the world around us. “Figure out what you want out of life and shape that life to fit those dreams. It is possible and never believe it is not.”
For myself, the saying “there is no such word as can’t,” meant so much more. Yes, in ways, my mother had treated me differently than the others. She would occasionally allow me, to what I call, “gimp out” of a chore. She, as well as myself, knew I could take out the trash, mow the lawn or vacuum the carpet using that hideous brown-green Kirby we had as kids. All of these chores could be performed by using only one hand. So why let me gimp out of these one handed operations and yet insist I sit at the dining room table performing two-handed operations using only one good hand? That is what my mother would do to me every time she would hear me utter the words “I Can’t”.
That dining room table, my mom was especially proud of; it cost her over $500.00 dollars and was the one piece of furniture she purchased brand new. A lovely, dark mahogany oak table; with two leaves and eight high backed chairs. This table had plenty of room for the evening meal, doing homework, and what I remember most, was the turning of two-handed operations into one.
I remember there became a ritual about performing these tasks. It began by her placing me in a chair, at the table, with the project in front of me. “Dear there is no such word as can’t; now you sit here and figure out how to do it. There will be no play and no leaving the table until you can show me you can do it”
So there I sit with this impossible task in front of me. “Please mom, I told you I can’t do it. May I get down?”
She would always answer, “No dear, now try”
I would sit there for the longest time gazing into the project at hand thinking of all sorts of other shenanigans I could be doing. From there I moved to the next sensation, feeling sorry for myself and bursting into tears. “I can’t! I can’t do it” This went on for what felt like forever. Did my mom even care? Not once did she budge from her spot. She just continued to watch that TV as I was confined to this chair for eternity.
This gave me every right, I thought, to my next stage, anger. I have a handicap that keeps me stuck in this chair. I have a mom not 30 foot away who does not care that I really cannot do this. Well okay God Dammit, I will try to do it and when I cannot, she can eat her words.
Bound and determined to prove her wrong, I proceeded. Let us see, if I hold it between my knees and jerk it like this. No. Well, how about if I put it under my foot to hold it tight and use my good hand like this. Hey! Something is happening. I am doing it.
Now this is some two hours later and the project is finished. The longest I ever sat at that table was 6 ½ hours, which was piecing together a simple model airplane using epoxy glue.

I angrily pick up the project and stomp over to my mother who is still lying on that couch watching the boob tube. Throwing it into her lap, I exclaim, “There! I did it! Can I go out and play now?”
“Yes, of course dear.” She would tell me. “I told you, you could do it, and I knew you could. Now remember, there is, no such word as can’t. I love you and be home by dark”. Off I would go, still angry that she would say I told you so, yet inside quite proud of the fact; I really can do it myself.
Today, I continually remember her quotes in my head, “There is no such word as can’t” and “You hate me now, you’ll love me later” So true, so true. I would not be the independent woman I have grown to be without her insight and parenting skills.