My Week At The CABVII

Last week Rachel went to a day camp at the Cincinnati Association for Blind and Visually Impaired. It was originally presented as a music camp, but it really was more of a day camp. I am thankful that they sort of misled us, because had I known what it was, we wouldn't have gone. Maybe that's why they did it. I have nothing against the CABVII, the people are great and they have helped us with various things over the last 8 years. But sometimes I just don't like being there, and sometimes I think that since Rachel isn't blind, we don't need to be there. It's also not that comforting to hear how many ways there are for a child to go blind.

Anyway, back to the day camp.

Every day the kids would go upstairs and participate in the day camp and the parents would hang out in the community room. I took books to read, but it was all moms, so we did what moms do best and spent the entire week chatting. It was refreshing to be around people who share certain struggles, but it was also challenging for me. There were seven kids in the camp and five of them were visually impaired enough to need Braille and the aid of a cane. There was one child who is completely blind, most of the other four could see some light or shadows. Only two were still mainstreamed.

The very first morning we were all sharing the story of what led us to the CABVII. It was fascinating. And by fascinating I mean slightly terrifying. Seven stories. Seven different medical problems. I left the conversation at one point to give Rachel a drop. As I was waiting for the elevator I was thanking God for this group of women. Women who really do understand the struggles of doctors and medicine and hurt feelings. I'm not saying that our struggles are unique, I know that my temptation to sin with Rachel is the same as any parent, but it was nice just not having to explain what each part of Rachel's diagnosis meant and what various parts of the eye do. As I was praising God, I had the most irrational thought. I stopped mid-prayer and thought, "What am I saying!?! I'm saying I'm glad to add something to a conversation about visual impairment. I don't want to belong here. I don't want to understand what these women are saying." I was overwhelmed with the thought that I should take Rachel and run screaming for the door. As if by leaving the building we could leave her low vision there too.

The elevator doors opened and there was Rachel, standing in front of me. With a cane in her hand. I resisted the urge to yell, "58 MINUTES. I WAS GONE FOR 58 MINUTES. WHAT HAPPENED?!? DID NO ONE SEE THE NEED TO COME GET ME IF SHE SUDDENLY LOST THAT MUCH VISION." I quickly got a grip. Turns out a lot of what they did this week was mobility training. They wanted to teach the kids to get on and off the elevator, walk up and down a flight of stairs and things like that. They didn't want to leave anyone out, so they let Rachel use a guest cane. She loved it. But I have to say, that is an image that will be hard to shake.

As the week unfolded I was shocked at the changes in Rachel. When Rachel comes home from school or something like VBS she is really quiet. She gives me very little information about what they did and spends the rest of the day quietly reading a book. Not this week. This week she spent the entire thirty minute ride home talking up a storm. She relived every detail with me and was so excited to go back. The fourth day I finally talked to one of the workers about it. Ms. Kelly said that a lot of times we underestimate just how much work it takes Rachel to keep up. She spends a lot of the day figuring out what is going on visually and is easily over-stimulated. Since this whole week was designed for low vision kids, it was visually easy for her, so she could branch out more in other areas.

That was good to hear, but hurt. I want so much for her to not have this struggle and not have to work so hard at finding people or keeping up. I am tempted to not believe it, but this afternoon she is worn out from VBS and shared with me that she couldn't find her team leader because they all wear the same shirts. Good times.

Where was I?

On the third day of camp she came out grinning from ear to ear. "Mommy, we played baseball today and I hit the ball every time!" I asked her to tell me everything. The teachers took a big beach ball and filled it with beads, so that the kids could hear it coming. They made a baseball diamond out of mats, so that the sighted kids could tell where to run. The mats were raised off the ground so that the more visually impaired kids could tell when they were off of the mat and on the regular floor. Amazing.

They had a wrap up party for the parents on Friday and we got to watch them play baseball. There really aren't any words to describe how awesome it was to watch her.It was a blessing I will remember for a life time. And it made me realize that I need to be more creative.

So here's what the week left me with: I have been dreading the start of school and knowing that she will still need the drops every hour. Any one of those women would gladly do the same for their child if it meant they would be able to see the sun rise tomorrow. I really need to get over myself and stop missing my miracle.

Praise God!