My husband, David, has the MOST wonderful smile. His smile lights up his face and is contagious to those around him.
He has late stage Alzheimer’s. He cannot walk. He cannot feed himself, toilet himself, bathe or brush his teeth. He cannot catch a ball or clap his hands. He cannot understand directions. He has little to no understandable speech. But, he communicates with a smile and facial expressions and he can follow one direction: he can kiss.
One day a baby and mom were visiting at the residence where David lives in memory care. When I brought David over, he was mesmerized and his smile widened. And David, who could barely speak, said: that’s a baby! I decided then that I would find babies to visit with him.
While searching for babies I came across an article describing the use of weighted life-like dolls for dementia patients. David now has his doll and he perks up with her, engaging, smiling, and kissing her. Other residents, entranced by the doll as well, sometimes ‘kidnap’ her and she has to be rescued.
Finding real babies was difficult. I wrote, phoned, texted, and visited infant care centers, graduate student housing, and mommy-and-me support groups. I described the joy that seeing babies gave David and asked for their help in recruiting babies.
But, when I took my search closer to home, I found that my neighborhood has several events that bring families together. At a street party I met a young couple and their baby, 12 mos old. I told them about David and asked if they would be willing to visit. To coordinate the timing of the visit, we took nap schedules into account, both the baby’s and David’s.
I met a second baby on a walk with a friend. We noticed a young man taking a baby out of a car. I nudged my friend asking her if I should ask him about visiting David. As she said: why not? I broached the idea of visiting David and, before I could get the words out, he emphatically said “Yes” explaining that he looked for opportunities to bring people joy.
The parents of these two babies had no experience knowing anyone with Alzheimer’s. I have been so touched and warmed by their responsiveness.
The third baby is a young toddler, the daughter of my private caregiver.
The visits range from 1/2 hour to an hour, every 4-6 weeks. Upon seeing the babies, David lights up with smiles. Even with his significant decline David responds with joy. We end when either David or the baby is fatigued.
Lastly, I was so focused on having babies visit David that it did not enter my mind to have David visit babies. It is now spring and the weather is warm and sunny. David’s caregiver and I wheel David to the adjacent university housing playground where, like magic, between 3 and 3:30 babies and toddlers appear, to David’s delight. He was nonstop smiles during our last outing.
David, pre Alzheimer’s, often engaged with babies by making funny faces. He was a gifted portrait artist, a very witty cartoonist, and a well admired jurist and author of judicial curriculum.
I cannot stop Alzheimer’s. It is a terrible feeling to be so helpless and powerless in the face of this disease. But I can make life better for him and finding babies for David has done just that.
