The Ability To Rise

One of my favourite stories my mother used to tell was about defying the odds. Well really, smashing the odds. She always shared the facts of her memory in the same tone and with the same sense of knowing accomplishment. Proud of herself and the feats she had surmounted, yet reserved because of the tolls she knew it took on her longevity. Her sacrifices were both a blessing and a curse. But ultimately, her sense of self worth was the silver lining.

A little history, my mother had scoliosis and one collapsed lung. The most she ever weighed, was when she had me. She reached just over ninety pounds prior to my birth. For the most part, 73lbs was about her average. To say she was petite is an understatement. Some might even say frail. But it never held her back. 

When she was very young, her spine began to curve. By the time she was in her mid-twenties the curvature was quite pronounced. She was supposed to wear a brace in her thirties, but it was too cumbersome and heavy. It got in the way and was limiting. And she wasn’t having any of that.

Her back was concave and her spine was four and a half inches off from what would have been her natural center. It had a half moon arch that set it close to her left side. One hip was higher than the other and her ribs could be counted one by one. She never used any of these things as an excuse.

The fact that she had only the breathing capacity of one lung showed itself in ways that would sometimes be quite scary, for her and for me. I can’t count the number of times I would check on her while she was sleeping. So still and with breathing so shallow I could not help but put an ear near her face or my fingers beneath her nose. Being careful not to wake her as I was begging for signs of life. 

I would presume it was the combination of scoliosis and the collapsed lung that led to her issues with exhaustion. Anemia and severe migraines also took advantage of her delicate state. Sadly her spine was rubbing the base of her skull. I remember the doctors throughout the years trying to get her to drink red wine and smoke cigarettes. Desperate attempts, I guess, to boost her iron and exercise her lung. 

The science behind those claims can be clearly disputed. But that’s not what we’re here for. We’re here to talk about perseverance, the ability to get back up and beat the odds. The desire to make the best of life, devote yourself to it and cherish every moment of it. The ability to rise. And these are the exact reasons why my mother’s fortitude and inner strength are testaments to the truth that life is a gift and often times what we make of it.

With all of this laid before you, I can now tell her story since she no longer can. As short and without hesitation as she did, I will sum up what odds she beat in one powerful sentence. And in a second, I will tell you just how high she rose.

As a young girl the doctors told my mother she would never walk upright and she would never have children. 

She not only walked upright, she gave birth to five daughters. 

Now you can fully see the significance of knowing my mother’s physical trials and tribulations. You understand that in knowing them you know without uncertainty she won the battle. That her defying the fate others had bestowed upon her and the challenges our creator dealt her is intensely remarkable. She rose and she conquered. My mother was a warrior. 

It is that warrior that picks me up and carries me over the finish line every single time.