My son James was born 15 weeks early with stage 5 retinopathy of prematurity. This is a complicated way of saying that he was blind. Right from the beginning. Total blind. He can’t even detect light.
The doctors had figured this out within a few days of his birth. They thought I might take it badly but the truth is I was so ecstatic with how the doctor began his sentence that it seemed like a very minor issue. “Your son is going to be ok. But…” I wasn’t concerned with the “but”. Not in the slightest. Up until that point, it was questionable if James was going to survive at all.
My son would live. He was breathing fine. All organs in order. He would have a normal life.
But he couldn’t see.
I actually felt blessed. Blind people, of course, live long productive lives. And most importantly, they live.
I have to admit… I didn’t know much about how to raise a blind child. I didn’t do as much research as I should have. For example, I’ve been told that I should have positively discussed his blindness from the very beginning. I should have said things like “Remember James, because you can’t see you’re going to have to try that a little slower than Mommy. Ok?” I should have made him understand that he’s missing a sense that most people have, but that it’s ok. He can still find other ways to do things.
I also should have tried harder to find other blind children for James to interact with. I’ve heard that that’s crucial for raising a blind child.
But I didn’t do any of those things. I ignored the issue. I tried too hard to shelter him from it. I would always think back to how delicate he looked the day he was born. So tiny. Like he was barely clinging to life. How the doctors told me “We’ll try out best” that day, but I could see the doubt in their eyes. I was still just so happy James was with me that I couldn’t bear telling him that he’s different. Couldn’t bear disappointing him. To explain that he’s missing something so important.
It’s not that I kept James as a social recluse locked up in his bedroom or anything crazy like that. We would always go out to parks and beaches. Family was always over and interacting with James. (They knew not to discuss the blindness issue.) As best as I could, I was trying to give James a normal childhood.
James is now 5 years old. And just yesterday, after all this time, the issue was finally brought up. I thought I had done such a great job of sheltering him. Of hiding him from his blindness. I thought he didn’t know he was any different than most people. But then last night, just before his bed time, James walked over and hugged me. I could tell he was very upset about something. He began sobbing in my shoulder. After a moment I quietly asked him, “What’s wrong James?”
He sniffled. Then barely choked out, “Mommy…”. He sniffled again. And then, in between sobs and tears, he said it. “Am I ever going to be able to see?”
I was taken completely aback. I hadn’t ever even rehearsed in my head what to say in this situation. I had thought this talk would be at least a year away. I didn’t know what to do. Stuck on my heels, I responded the only way I knew how at that point. Something I had avoided for so long. The truth. “No James.” I sighed, “the doctors said that you will never be able to see.”
He cried in my arms for another minute or so. And then finally said “Can you just bring me to bed Mommy?”
I agreed to. I lay him in his bed and told him “You wait here a moment. Mommy has something for you.”
I went to my bedroom and pulled out a present I had been waiting to give to him. I went back into his bedroom and handed it over.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s a pendant” I told him. “You wear it around your neck if you want. Here.” I took his hand. “Do you feel these bumps?”
“What are they?” he asked.
“It’s called Braille. You’ll be able to use it to read things. And to count. Feel the bumps now. What shape does it form?”
“Hmmm… I don’t know.” He looked perplexed.
“It’s the shape of a heart. It means that Mommy loves you very much. That there are many people who love you very much. So someone will always be here to help you and protect you. So whenever you’re sad, you just rub that heart and think of us, ok?”
He smiled.
“Also” I continued, “there are lots and lots of people in the world who can’t see. Just like you. And there are plenty of things they learn which make their lives easier and more comfortable. Like braille. You’re going to start learning some of these new things right away, ok?”
When I left his room, he looked in my general direction. He said in a much more upbeat voice than before “Goodnight Mommy.”
“Goodnight James. See you in the morning.”
I left his room. I walked down the hall. I got in my bed. And I cried for hours.
James seemed fine when he got up this morning. He went about his day as usual. After breakfast he was sitting on the couch listening to his favourite shows. I went upstairs to his bedroom and went through my usual routine of making his bed, gathering his laundry, etc. And then I noticed that the air vent cover seemed… different. As though it had been taken off and hastily put back on. Had James been messing around in there?
I decided to pull off the vent cover and look in.
And there it was. A brown case. Approximately 8 by 12 inches. It was about four inches thick, with a small black handle on top. There was also a strange foreign language written on it. I had never seen it before.
I took it out and opened it up.
The first thing I noticed was the pendant. He had placed it in the box. Maybe for safe keeping? I picked it up and smiled.
But then I noticed something else.
I almost screamed at what I saw. I held my hand over my mouth. Shock was already setting in. I must have turned ghostly white. I could feel my skin crawl. The hairs standing up on my arms and legs. It took me half a minute to realize the full extent of what I was looking at. Of how impossible it was… let alone how terrifying.
It was a neatly drawn picture. It wasn’t professionally made or anything like that, but done well enough that I could decipher what was happening. James was in it. It looked just like him. He was wearing the pendant that I had given him last night. One hand feeling the braille heart of his pendant. In his other hand was a large knife. And on the ground was me. Clearly me. Sliced. Dead. Covered in blood.
“Mommy?” I heard from just outside the doorway.
I quickly put the picture back in the box and then placed it in the air vent. “Coming James.”
I hadn’t processed this yet. I had no idea what I thought about it. I tried to go about my day. James seemed no different than usual. I didn’t bring the picture up. Not yet.
I was distracted while doing my normal activities. I remember doing the dishes, but my mind was really thinking There’s nobody else in the house that could have drawn that picture. And it was definitely drawn last night. The pendant proves it.
I remember putting James’ lunch together.
The door was locked all night and nobody else has a key. We’re too high up for someone to come in through a window.
I remember sitting down to eat my sandwich.
But how could James have drawn it? The picture had far too much detail for someone who’s been blind his whole life. The dead woman on the ground looks just like me. And he’s never seen me before. He’s never seen anything before.
I remember watching James playing with his toys.
Can he see? Is he just faking? How is that possible? How could a 5 year old who was born without sight somehow gain his vision back while continuing to fake his blindness? What would he have to gain by faking?
I’m so lost right now. So confused. I need to really think this all over before deciding what to do. Do I talk to him about it? Do I call the police? I had to write this down. To share it with somebody. Anonymously. Because if I told anybody I knew they would think I’m insane. I’m going to post this here, with a community that deals with such strange occurrences all the time. I’ll report back with any new developments.