I’m scared my daughter’s going blind

DEAR BEL, I LOVE my daughter Anna so much. At 38 (the youngest of my three children) she’s battled depression, anxiety, weight and fertility problems and made us very proud that she never gives up.

At the moment, she is doing well in her job. After years of heartache, she is now married to a lovely guy but struggling to become pregnant.

I understand how this has become all-consuming, but she is burying her head in the sand over a much more pressing problem.

In early 2015, Anna was diagnosed with Keratoconus, a degenerative eye disease. She was prescribed special contact lenses to slow the disease, but felt she was not given the time at the hospital to practise using them before being sent home.

Her wedding was looming, so she said she’d try again in the New Year. Her next appointment was in March 2016, but it was cancelled by the hospital and she has never made a new one.

I have tried several ways to persuade her, offering to go with her, asking her sister and a couple of her close friends to ask how it’s going — all to no avail.

Recently, I told her I’m afraid because she will go blind without treatment and how would she cope with a baby then? Her response was a text saying it’s none of my business — that much as she loves me and knows how much I love her, she must make her own decisions.

I lay awake at night with worry. I have tried talking to her husband, but he gets nowhere either. I feel as if I should be able to fix this — that I’m a failure as a mother. What do you advise? WENDY

THe anxiety we feel over our children starts when they are born and never ends. My own mother ( aged 93) will bear witness to that, and earlier this year I tossed and turned for about two weeks because I was so concerned about my daughter and her husband, who were at that time having some serious work-related problems.

Since 1974, I’ve discovered that being a good parent goes hand in hand with acute worry, some frustration and selfsacrifice, too — and this is the (somewhat tarnished) setting within which jewels of love, pride and joy are set. This, your daughter will discover if she fulfils her dream of parenthood.

Let me ask you this: did you ever give advice to your children that they welcomed? Once in a while they’ll listen, but they usually don’t want it — and the rejection can be hurtful.

You have to watch them make mistakes, time and time again, but when they do things that you know are wrong/ stupid/ self- damaging/ wilful, it’s essential for you to realise that it’s not your fault.

The other week, I was talking to a clinical psychologist friend who was adamant that we mothers have to ditch our tendency to blame ourselves. We do our best, but can do no more. How can you believe you are ‘ a failure as a mother’ when you love Anna so much and care so deeply about her future?

Of course, the eye problem is worrying and she needs to use the lenses. People often resist treatments they know are good for them — they don’t put hearing aids in, fail to take pills etc. It’s careless and foolish, but as the saying goes, you can take a horse to water — but you can’t make it drink.

It was certainly a mistake (though understandable) for you to send her a text designed to frighten her into action. You are the last person she will listen to; the one person in this story who ought to be able to influence Anna is the man trying to support her through these efforts to get pregnant.

You write: ‘I have tried talking to her husband, but he gets nowhere either.’

That’s not good enough. I would try to meet him alone, to spell out your concerns and work out a strategy. He has a right and a duty to tell her that her health impinges on his happiness, and even if they never have a child, he looks forward to their life together.

And that’s why she needs to learn to wear those lenses — which is a hard thing to do. It’s no longer job to ‘fix’ her life, but it is his.