Grief and Guilt

For over a year this blog has been a place for good news. We have been able to share so many joyful events with all of you. 

Today I come to you about my mother. For months I have been waiting to update you, hoping that the longer I waited, the better the situation would become. Nobody likes delivering bad news. 

Sadly, that's all I have for you today. Bad news. 

In case you don't want to read the bad news, I wanted to say thank you for all of your support. The money you raised help purchase a manual hoyer lift and an electric lift for her hospital bed. My father has also been able to hire a CNA during the day while we are at work who takes great care of my mother.  I also wanted to thank those who have called, texted, gone on grocery runs, and watched our children while we ran out to my dads. 

I had written a very honest post back in August. It sat in my drafts for months, as I was afraid to publish it and make it real. As I updated my blog look, (which BTW is still not finished, but after hours of editing, I gave up) I somehow deleted the post. I can tell you that the post was raw and very emotional . Grief comes in stages and it's safe to say that I was in the anger stage during this time. While anger and depression still lingers, I've been able to move forward and step into acceptance. 

Why am I grieving? My mom is still alive.  I see her about four times a week, multiple times a day. She can still speak. She is alive. But she is in no way living. 

In June, therapy stopped coming. My sister and I still held out hope that she would eventually  be able to sit up, that if we kept up with her exercises that she could get to a point where she could hold her grandchildren. But we are not therapists and our main priority was physically taking care of her which requires a lot of time in itself. 

By August, my sister and I finally accepted the fact that she would not recover like we had hoped. 

My mother, who never stopped going, will never be able to sit up, hold her grandchildren, come over to my house, brush her teeth or hair, see a Christmas tree, or lie next to my father.  She needs 24 hour care. We take shifts for her care. Me, my sister, and my cousin take turns on the nights and weekends.  We change her, lift her into her wheelchair, and much to her dismay sometimes, do her hair and makeup. 

Her memory is hit or miss. She used to be able to hold conversations with us but it's getting more difficult for her. Lately she's had a harder time recognizing voices. Her speech has gotten worse.  Sometimes she lies there counting numbers, sometimes she yells nonstop for my dad even though he is there. She is still on a feeding tube and probably will be for the rest of her life. 

So yes, my mom is still here and maybe some of you are sitting there thinking that we should be grateful. After all, I still get to see her face and hear her voice while there are many daughters out there that aren't so lucky. 

But please understand, that I am still grieving the loss of my mother. I am grieving the loss of what I once knew. It's all a process. My love for her hasn't changed. As a matter of fact, it's grown. 

We were not Loreli and Rory. We fought often and never saw eye to eye on MANY issues. That's not a secret. The secret was how important she was to me. All of the times I took her for granted. All of the vacations I didn't go on because I wanted to prove a point. There were countless times she wanted to teach me how to prepare a holiday meal or watch old movies with her. My response was always the same. "Mom, maybe next time, life is just insane right now. "

Oh hi guilt. 

I've had two panic attacks from attempting to go into Hobby Lobby. It was our Sweeden. We could be so mad at each other, not talk for days, and she could call me up and ask if I wanted to go there and I would drop everything to go. 

I thought that I would be alright during Christmas because I have my children, but as I decorate or attempt to listen to Christmas music, I just feel empty. Fear has started to creep back into my life as I worry that she was the magic and that I'll never feel the same about this holiday again. I'm afraid that all it means now is the anniversary of her stroke and a reminder of the worst Christmas of my life. A Christmas where they told us she may never leave the hospital. 

But I'm trying. I promise I'm trying. 

Thank God for my sister. Between my brother, cousin Marlane, Aunt Linda, Jerod, my sister, I would have fallen apart a long time ago. To my friends who have provided emotional support, I don't know how I will ever repay you. You've cooked me dinner while I just sat lifeless, you've asked every Saturday if I need Starbucks or anything at Aldi, you've left your own families and watched my kids if I had to run over my dads for an emergency. I haven't had to ask for help or support, you just showed up. You are have been present and real and let me scream and cry on you, and that has been the biggest help of all. You have made me stronger so I can be strong for my family. Thank you will never be enough. 

A few people have reached out ,asking how they can help. It's been difficult to answer that question knowing that help would need to be longterm. 

What she needs is therapy. As I mentored, insurance stopped providing therapy in June so she really needs more movement throughout her day. She has become sore and very stiff. Anyone who would be willing to volunteer their time to give my mom some OT, PT, or speech would be wonderful. 

Thank you again for your support that you've already provided. If any changes happen, I will gladly let you all know. Until then,  please continue to pray for both my parents. My dad continues to amaze me. His love for my mom is the most beautiful and selfless act I've ever witnessed. Here's to hoping that you take in every loving moment this holiday season. 

Love, 

Ashlie