A few weeks ago, I went up take care of my nephew while Middle had her second baby. I haven’t blogged much about it, because it was one of those pregnancies where somebody says early on, “If the baby makes it, there’s a 30% chance of normalcy.”
They say it in such a grave tone, a person like me stupidly says, “What do you mean, normalcy?”
“Not blind. No severe CP. No major malformations.”
After that, nobody talks about baby names. Instead, we talk about endless medical procedures both invasive and non, and very briefly, what it costs to see specialists who aren’t covered by your health insurance.
Here, I will cut to the chase and say the baby was delivered early and seems fine. Thank you, Universe.
But for a long time, pre-25 weeks, Middle would call up and say, “The doctors don’t seem to know that much about this type of thing. It’s really rare.”
And I would pray she wouldn’t read my mind through the phone, because inevitably, what I was always thinking was, “That’s because this probably ends in miscarriage and there’s nobody around to study. You’re just lucky/unlucky enough to have slipped past the first trimester.”
Anyway, when Middle called +28 weeks, it was so I could be on call if the doctors had to do an emergency “on the table” delivery. Driving all night to Be There was something I was deeply honored to do. But also, that was the kind of thing that usually fell to my mom.
Or, more accurately, was type of thing you could not stop my mom from doing because she was MOM and when her kids were in trouble OH HELL NO, you best get out of her path, because she was coming whether you wanted her to or not.
“Why not Mom?” I asked Middle, tilting my Queen of the Obvious crown back so I could place the phone properly to my ear.
“Mom can’t watch dad and {Middle’s 2 year old},” she answered, then added, “Dad gets lost now. He’ll sneak out the front door and wander.” Middle then related a few stories of Dad, found standing in the neighbor’s flowers, or ending up in a nearby shopping center, having told no one he was leaving.
Mom has a child safety thing on the front door now, which baffles and stymies the man who once solved a Rubik’s cube.
**
When we all showed up for Middle’s birth day, I could see Middle was right. My dad is definitely demented. But it’s my mom I really notice. She wears that frantic, distracted, sleep deprived pall. I recognized the hypervigilant look on her face immediately, because you see it on all mothers who have a child old enough to run fast but not old enough to know better.
Instead of taking care of my nephew, I handed him over to my mom, and I took care of my dad. My father and I talked, went on walks. I watched my mom’s shoulders slowly drop down from around her ears, because taking care of a happy three foot two year old is hella less stressful than taking care of an irate six foot one. My dad told me he wants to donate blood. He’s O negative, the universal donor, and has latched onto the idea that even if his brains “are falling apart”, he could still be useful, that he can still make a contribution.
Later, my father lost his wallet, which caused a commotion. My mother eventually found it in his jacket pocket.
Later still, my cell phone died. Mom offered that I take Dad’s (since she had a phone on her, and she and dad are always together). “You think I’m an idiot!” My dad yelled when Mom requested his phone, as if he were town sheriff and she were ungunning him.
His logic has holes, but he gets the emotional vibe dead on.
After I see how Dad is, I try to get a moment alone with my mother, to check in on how she’s really doing. This is impossible. My father cannot be without her. He literally will not sit in the dining room while Mom talks to me in the kitchen – he waits patiently in the doorway, holding his plate of pancakes, eyes tracking her every move, unable to let her out of his sight.
It’s two weeks later when I finally corner my mom, via phone call, and she is alone. Or at least, my father is Rachel Maddow’s thrall for 30 minutes and my mom can duck into the other room and speak freely.
I broach the idea of help for her in the form of day care for dad. Like: 3 hours, two times a week. Much as I do with my own child-age wards.
You would have thought I’d said, “Hey, you should lock dad up in an orphanarium for unloved grownups, fly out to Florida and find a new man, honey.”
True facts: My mother strongly suggested I was a cold hearted monster. She was going to take care of Dad until the end, and although she might get some in-home help down the road, she was not going to abandon him, ever. PS: What is broken inside you, Anne? That is your father.
More true facts: She turned right around three sentences later and declared, “But if anything should happen to me, put your dad in a retirement home immediately. Do not take care of him yourself. And if anything happens to me, put me in a home.”
I yelled at her, “I don’t even know how to process that level of Do as I say, and not as I do hypocrisy bullshit.” And, “If you do this, you will orphan your kids.” When she laughed, I said, “Hey, a 40 year old orphan is still an orphan.” I do not pull any punches as I am a monster, uncharitable variety.
A week later, she called back, and said, “I thought about what you said. You are already an orphan. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.” Then she hung up, and I haven’t spoken to her since.
I can’t process. I mean, I don’t even know where to start in the whole processing fucked up shit process. Except for this one piece. My mom’s right – I am hard hearted. I believe who my dad was would be furious that my mother is choosing this. Who he is now needs it, so I understand why she’s doing it. I would honor his memory and put him in a home, because if he could see my mom destroyed by the acts of caring for him, he’d hate that.
But here’s the thing that gives me pause — if I’d had Middle’s pregnancy, and seen the cold, hard facts in the crystal ball of the future, I probably would have terminated, rather than risk it. Better fast and brutal than drawn out agony. Except, my nephew is perfectly fine.
So I guess the Universe might be suggesting that just because I think this is a fucking disaster doesn’t mean I’m right.
Here’s some Maggot Brain by Funkadelic, which I have mixed feelings about, but seemed appropriate.
My heart aches for you.
And yes, this is all triggery and shit, thanks for the warning, I read it anyway.
Here comes your novel.
What part of this is not a fucking disaster? It’s all in how you and your family come together (or not) to handle this that either makes it an EF6-10 on the Richter scale- type apocalypse event, or THE very worst thing that a family could ever go through but come out the other side stronger than before.
You’re not a monster, or cold hearted. Your view is decidedly less clouded than Mom who’s standing at ground zero as the mushroom cloud goes up. From the outside-ish, looking in, it’s hella easier to see. And harder. You stand to lose two people you love, and you know it. All she sees right now is losing your dad.
I don’t even know how to organize my thoughts on this. I’ll sum it up to say, I’ve been there. Just about everywhere this went. Medically orchestrated/high risk pregnancy and the unknown of knowing if the baby would be ‘alright.’ Mother in-law dying of cancer and FIL and BIL handling all of her care, watching it nearly destroy them both, and wreck their relationship. When major medical issues requiring constant care/nursing help are necessary I’ve seen first hand what a drain it can be. Mothers especially, are reluctant to ask for help because mom – is going to do it all. And I’ve seen that most, when they finally agree to help, all wish they would have done it sooner. To gain a few hours of time to themselves, or be able to run errands unencumbered, escape reality and be ‘normal’ can do wonders for the outlook. And when the outlook is bleak, mental/physical breaks are so important. But it’s hard to see when you’re in the thick of it. Hard as it may be with the things she’s said to you, be gentle with Mom. This kind of shit will make you crazy & change your DNA. It’s a long, unexpected slog. I mean who thinks this is going to happen to them? No one. And no one is prepared for this. Coping mechanisms that may have been adequate for run of the mill life shit can quickly become woefully inadequate. It takes time to process. The reality that she is slooooowly losing her partner in one of the most brutal ways possible. She may not be ready to admit it, but she’s probably aware that there will come a day that she can’t do it. And she’ll need you and the Middle and the Little to love and support her, to tell her it’s ‘ok, you’re really not giving up on Dad, or going to Hell for it,’ to give her a purpose once Dad is no longer there to tend to. I would venture, if she continues along this path, she’s going to lose herself in the care of him, and when he’s gone…..? It’s a fresh new grief. What do you do when all you’ve done for the last x-years is care for someone else? But if you can maintain just a few little things from your pre-disaster life to keep you connected… It’s hard to handle with grace and understanding, and be free of judgment. You want what’s best for Mom, she want’s what’s best for Dad, and we women take that whole ‘sickness and health’ vow a lot more seriously than men (studies have proven it!). Be gentle, be compassionate, be open and be willing to stand up for Mom. Rally the sisters. Mom is probably Dad’s advocate at this point, but she needs one too.
Keeping you in my thoughts and wishing you the best of luck. Stay strong. This shit sucks.
Holy shit your family is intense. I am so happy your nephew is fine – what a nerve-wracking 9months those must have been.
As for your mother: she sounds scared and tired and in desperate need of therapy. And reprieve – you are exactly right. Am I reading this right that you thought her words sounded like an oblique suicide threat? Because… wow. If you can find a way to get her evaluated/get her support, it sounds like that really needs to happen. Maybe Middle can help you convince your mom to talk to her doctor or a therapist or a social worker (or even a level-headed clergy person if that’s the way she rolls – though their task would be to encourage her to talk to someone else!). She is in crisis, because your father is in crisis and she is all wrapped up in it. Crisis in one begets crisis in others, and so your life is now affected. And just like you said, a few hours of relaxation a few times a week would almost certainly make all the difference.
That said, this post sounds like the most perspective and clarity you’ve had on your family (ever?). I think all that hard work this winter might be paying off… Wishing you strength and courage.
There’s this thing called respite care for a reason. People fucking need it. Maybe think like this: Your mom is sick too, and she doesn’t know it. She knows shit is fucked like a soup sandwich but she doesn’t know she is sick. She has “I’ve got this -itis.” If your dad is glued to her it makes her sickness deeper. Dude.
You add in “I only have xx days left where he will know me and I can’t send him to daycare because what if he loses his shit and never remembers me after?” She’s so fucked.
I’m saying this not to ever to be cruel, but you need to believe they’re both sick. She doesn’t know what she is saying or doing. YOU ARE NOT A BAD DAUGHTER. You’re just in the dust going wtf? Therapist. Talk to one dammit. A real person needs to help you process, not just some Sam from the internets.
Your mom needs to take care of herself in order to take care of your dad. Simple math. I hope she sees it soon.
Try to remember her anger isn’t about you. You are just a safe place to point it.
Long-time reader un-lurking to say: I started to write something yesterday and then got self-conscious and now I see that several others have said what I would have said, but better.
Your mom is so totally overwhelmed that she can’t think or talk or act normally when it comes to what’s happening. Your suggestion of respite care, some sort of relief, was right on, but right now she can’t see that, and she can’t strike out at the sickness that’s slowly taking your dad from her but she can strike out at you.
I hope that you can see that none of this is your fault, and you are not a bad daughter. At some point your mom is really, really going to need you & your sisters. I hope that she will realize this sooner rather than later and that you can all help each other through this.
Thinking of you.
Oh boy. So tough. If I may:
http://www.capradio.org/news/the-view-from-here/2014/05/09/who-cares/
The link is to one of several pieces in an excellent series on caregivers by our local NPR affiliate.
My aunt went through this journey with my uncle over a five year period. When he began wandering away from the house and started to experience some paranoid tendencies, she caved and found a day treatment program. It gave him a bit of variety and bought her time to reclaim some much-needed quiet time. Towards the end, she was forced to place him in a very nice skilled nursing facility. She agonized over every step but it was truly far less troubling for my uncle. After his death, she trained for a seniors counseling program that then provided some amazing opportunities to support others with similar challenges. Hugs.
Here’s the transcript and audio of the most compelling piece, just in case you want to share among others:
http://www.capradio.org/news/the-view-from-here/2014/05/09/who-cares/to-have-and-have-not/
And this:
http://caregiversspeak.tumblr.com/
I think. I think that you and I have similar approaches to disaster. I don’t find you hard-hearted. I think you are practical. I think you assess the situation and determine what you can take and you proceed. You do the best you can with the tools you have.
I’m glad your nephew is fine. So glad! I too would have most likely terminated in such a situation. Especially with another child to take care of/worry about. I don’t think that makes me a monster. I think it means that I recognize that I have limited resources, and I try to devote them accordingly, and I wouldn’t be able to willingly shoot them all down a THIS ENDS IN DISASTER drain when they are already mostly tied up.
But I’m glad he’s here, and okay.
I’m so sorry about your dad. In situations like that I end up sorriest for the person who is no longer all there, who is the person who in a way is affected the least. Like, how your dad the way he was would feel about your dad the way he is now. That’s the part that really gets me in my squishy heart places.
My dad’s dad (who is almost 93 so really this is all to be expected) is slipping mentally. He still lives at home with my dad’s evil stepmother. She hides upstairs (he can’t take the stairs anymore) and ignores him. He’s so lonely. My dad drives 1.5 hours to visit him every Saturday. They go to lunch and a movie.
My dad doesn’t ever want to admit that anything is wrong with his dad.
My grandfather was a doctor, and always had this steal trap of a mind (and was a real asshole). He used to tell my dad that he was a disappointment on the regular, because my dad is a blue collar guy who dropped out of high school at 15 and certainly didn’t make it to medical school.
Now he’s the sweet, bumbling man, and I think my dad just doesn’t know what to make of their relationship now.
I sort of lost track of my point, if I ever had one. This comment lacks structure!
Well anyway, thank you for sharing this update.
Agree with everyone. She must get some respite help. Is your father a Vet by any chance? If so, he may qualify for an aide a couple of hours a day. (My husband does, although he has ALS, which has elevated priority.) Many retirement/nursing homes will have the names of people trained as home aides; try Bayada, too? It is not actually that much an hour (sadly for them).
Anne. Whoa.
I usually can come up with something really deep and/or witty and clever to say to you, but God Damn. I was right along with you- till that phone call- and my heart shattered for you. The fuck. I got juthin- accept that I feel you, and I believe you are not cold hearted or fucked up in wishing your mother would seek a little help. She has to take care her- in order to take care of him. Its the same as with new mothers (or mothers in general, but especially with like newborns?) If your run ragged and exhausted and emotionally spent, your not able to see or do whats right for those you’re caring for. Right?
Call your mom. If anything just to let her know (even tho she like stabbed you in the guts) you are NOT an orphan yet. And you love them.
I just…. I am trying to think of what sort of pain I’d have to be experiencing to call up my daughter and bomb her with what your mom dropped on you.
Being burned alive, is what I come up with.
This breaks my heart. I am here, Anne. I am listening. Gonna keep listening.
Hm… in case it is unclear, I think your mom is in pain. Lots and lots of pain.
🙁
Obv, you know this… is just a reminder to not take what she said to heart.
Oh Anne, I’m hurting for you. How terrible and hard this is for all of you. And what an understatement those words are. So much excellent truth has been spoken here already that I won’t say much, just know that my heart is aching for you, and for your family.
Thank you all for this insight and comfort. Is appreciated. I’m away from my home computer and don’t have my dratted passwords, otherwise I would email you all promptly with hugs and kisses. Please (if you happen to come back and spot this) accept this instead. Thank you, thank you. Having this feedback gives me much needed clarity. Thank you.
Starting the beginning of this with the father in law and not liking it at all. I have to say I must be a disaster-monger as well because, like you, I TOTALLY would have terminated that pregnancy. We made an agreement before both amnio procedures for both kids that if it came back wonky, we would terminate. No questions, no BS, no negotiating, just cold hard facts. I am glad nephew is awesome, I just don’t have that faith in the universe. As far as mom- yeh, she’s sick and scared and overwhelmed and what she says is not what she means and it sucks that you have to parent your parents but you do sometimes.
So heartbroken for you right now. Hearing something like that from your mother must be the worst pain I can imagine.
My own mother came close a few months ago. My dad passed in 2012. She’s been a wreck ever since. She called one day in the middle of a meltdown and just said it would be better if she was just gone, too. Then my brother and I wouldn’t have to worry about her and we’d have her life insurance money.
Just in the past few weeks she finally admitted that she needed to take care of herself. She’s on anti-depressants now and it’s actually possible to talk to her without wanting to fall into a deep dark hole somewhere and cry until all the pain is gone. I’ve been grieving the loss of my father, and feeling like I had to grieve over her as well. She’d been so unreachable. It’s only been a week since we noticed the difference. But it’s the most amazing breath of fresh air.
Coming to your blog is always so cathartic. Amazing to read this. Thank you for sharing something so intimate. I hope it feels good for you to share it. My heart is in pieces for you and your family. We’re all here to listen, a safe place for you to vent. I know I’ll always be here. I’ve only commented once before. Everyone else leaves such comforting comments, I’m never sure what I can add.
Also wonderful to hear your nephew is doing well. It must have been terrifying. I don’t blame you in the least for not sharing much about the pregnancy. It’s heartbreaking to share such exciting news, only to have it all shatter afterward.
I leave you lots of hugs and support. Please be well. I hope your mother finds the strength to take care of herself, I can’t imagine the pain she must be in. The pain you must be in.
Take care of yourself, too. Don’t forget that.
Your suggestion of adult day care was a compassionate suggestion no matter how it was taken.
[…] out to comfort her. And I get that her blowback is greater than mine, I still felt this surge of You abdicated your parentage of me, what am I doing chasing after […]