Mothering Amma

I touch Amma very often, I hold her hands and hug her. I can see the difference it makes to her. As soon as I go close to her, she reaches for my hands.

Amma has become a child, she has regressed in her behaviour and grasp of things. She cannot grasp complex issues, her attention and interest span is short, she is wracked by worries that relate to her needs. 

She asks several times if we will give her Cremmafin, when we reply in the affirmative, she asks” What about Alprax?’ Will the attendant wake up when she calls in the night? She voices these anxieties the way a child does indifferent to the thought that the caregiver would be upset that trust is not placed on her. I cannot explain this to Amma. She will decode it as ‘The caregiver is hurt’, ‘she is angry’ and she will be gripped by anxiety that the caregiver will leave.

She is adamant like a child, thinks that things should revolve around her. She has had a Stroke and a fall that has pulled her down enormously. She can’t afford to fall again and and we explain this situation to the caregiver. Amma warns the caregiver that she’ll lose her job if she falls again due to negligence. It is not that Amma can’t see what a second fall can do to her. But children can be scathingly cruel with motives misplaced.

So how did I deal with my child? I stayed at zero level in my expectations of reciprocity. We do not reason with children, they do not understand that. I never reasoned with Athreya, never explained when he was a year old why certain things won’t work. If he wanted something that was undesirable to me, I answered in the negative and slowly attempted to take his mind off that.

I go back to all that I did as a mother to my child. I feel I have become a mother again when I deal with Amma.