A Mom Story...

My oldest son isn't with me today.  He spent last night at my parents, a delayed birthday tradition. There was a snowstorm during the first attempt.  This date was the make-up date and Eddie was not about to let anything stop him this time; not even a broken arm.  We talked about rescheduling, but he was resolute.

Only 24 hours after breaking his arm, he departed for Grandma and Grandpa's (a.k.a. Baba).  Eddie is a very sensitive kid; as in he is very aware of his needs and emotions.  So, he knew he needed to be cared for and loved right now, while the pain was still at it's worst.  Plus he is grieving the loss of his passion for the next 2 months, Taekwondo. 

I have to say, I am really struggling with the fact that it is not me providing that for him.  I feel bound, I feel restricted.  This is uncomfortable.  I should be caring for my baby.  I know he is in amazing hands.  My parents are truly wonderful.  Still, I have this deep, uncontrollable need to care for my hurting child.

It's strange, the timing.  This isn't the first time he ended up at Grandma and Baba's at a pinnacle point in his life.  Four years ago, he witnessed another Grandfather (his namesake) pass away.  It was the night before Eddie's birthday, the night before he was going to spend the night at Grandma and Baba's.  That time we also discussed cancelling, and it was hard to let him go, but that was where he was meant to be.

There are some very clear moments in my children's lives where I feel God is at work.  It seems obvious that some events were planned and happened just as they should.  For Eddie, these moments when he ends up at Grandma and Baba's seem fall into that category for sure.  I'm sure he will never forget the nights he spent there when he needed love, support and reassurance the most.

I think I'll feel unsettled until he returns to my care, but he is where he is supposed to be and I am thankful.

H is for...

My sister felt like she whimped out with "H" on her alphabet soup blog challenge (though I thought hers was a strong entry), and I am kinda feeling that way about mine too. Seeing as I don't yet have an "H."
Mmmm... Heaven, Hell, Hope, Hippie, Hair, Hiccup, Happy, Horrible, Hmmmmm.... yes, Hair...

You know what? My last post, right before I started the alphabet blogs started with an "H" and it is very worthy of being in my Alphabet Soup.

H is for Haircut

I've given many hair cuts in the last ten years. All but 3 have been given to my boys, though my oldest won't let me cut his hair anymore. Autonomy, I suppose. One was a trim of my mom's curly locks. Not much room for error there.

Another was a little over eight years ago when I cut my sister's hair, or what was left of it. After several intense rounds of chemo, all she had left was a few straggles for a meager ponytail which she let stick out the back of her baseball caps. Half-way during the hair cut, she needed to take a break to lay, curled up, on the kitchen floor to manage through her severe stomach pains (related to the damage to her internal organs from the constant drugs and treatment).

What was wonderful about this... I can't, still can't, believe even now that I can use the word wonderful for this. What was wonderful about this was that I knew it would be a precious memory that I would never, ever forget.

I eventually finished cutting her hair and she replaced her tan baseball cap with no more ponytail spilling out of the back. Her always gorgeous, long brown hair was gone forever. She died two months later.

I've remember that day many, many times; but never as vividly as today. Today I cut my mother-in-law's hair. She's too afraid to go out in public these days, so no more beauty shop visits. Her Alzheimer's has taken center stage. She is suspicious and confused. She won't leave her house, but wanted a hair cut.

While I cut her hair, she wasn't anxious or confused or afraid. She was relaxed, and played with her 17 month old grand-daughter. I pondered her future, soon to be in assisted living, gradually losing her grasp on the awareness of her own life. The matriarch of my family is dying; at least as we know her.

My mother-in-law's haircut was a much different circumstance than my sister's, yet my heart bound them tightly together. There is something very organic and real when you cut the hair of a suffering person, one whom you love deeply.

Confused and Not Amused

My life has been in overdrive for about two weeks now. I've been surviving and coping because of adrenaline and caffeine. And sometimes, just not coping.

I broke down, sobbing while driving to the medical clinic this last week. My mother-in-law sat next to me and was none-the-wiser, though my baby girl, in the back seat, was trying to mimic my strange sounds. She noticed.

My mother-in-law had just finished railing into me, telling me I lie and I am going to hell. It wasn't because she used to ever believe that. We've always had a marvelous relationship. It's because she is confused.

A month ago, her doctor, her neurologist, had finally committed to saying that she has "Onset Alzheimer's." But somehow, since then, she has plummeted into the intermediate stages of it. Out of respect for her, I won't even write about most of her struggle these last few weeks.

Today she was adamant that a picture of her, her husband and my husband and brother-in-law as kids, was none of those such people.

I talk with my kids almost every day about their Naana, trying to help them navigate through this rapid change. They can no longer have a conversation with their grandmother because they lack the maturity to redirect, comfort or make some level of sense out of what she is saying. They are losing their grandmother right in front of my eyes. It is breaking my heart.

My mother-in-law speaks of wishing to die every day. She is losing the ability to care for herself in the most basic ways. It is a stomach-turning, stressful reality. Her sons and I are doing all we can, which at this moment is just doing the next thing (because the bigger picture is so overwhelming.) I've realized we were unprepared in almost every way for such a rapid decline.

Sometimes her sons and I feel so overwhelmed we land in our own moments of confusion. But we are pulling together. We are being forced to practice patience beyond what we thought we were capable of. We are leaning on each other. We are communicating continuously. We are sharing encouragement and support. We are being a family, one step at a time.

Random Life Reminders

Yesterday I was reminded about various life truths.

1) There is absolutely no need to challenge or confront a person for being slow or tardy when he is about to drill your teeth. Diplomacy, flattery and kindness will always benefit you in that situation. (Thanks sis for walking me through that.)

2) (On the same topic, also from sis) Going to the dentist is almost always better than going to the gynecologist.

3) It is okay to be disturbed when the driver in front of you blatantly discards his/her candy wrapper out the window in rush hour (or any) traffic.

4) When a friend is observing something in your life and has some insight or input, it is always worth listening to, even if at first you don't agree. If it's a good friend, there is probably some valuable truth to consider.

5) Having people in your life available to help you navigate through tough moments is invaluable.

Peace.

Fungus, Not My Friend

Well, the antibiotics didn't kill my baby, they only caused a fungal diaper rash that itches and drives her nuts. It took me two weeks to figure it out. Or, should I say, two weeks to finally take her to the doctor so she could tell me what it was. Maybe if I had regularly given my boys antibiotics, I'd have been familiar with this. But... not.

I had tried every treatment that worked before with my boys. Baking soda baths, airing out the derriere, super-thick butt ointment. Nada was a-working.

I supposed it is not that bad. Really, I didn't want her to suffer out the ear infection any longer. What choice did I have? I had to help her, heal her ear, with antibiotics. But, now I know not to wait 2 weeks when I see this classic post-antibiotic fungal diaper rash.

So, I've got the correct remedy now. Hopefully my baby is on the speedy road to recovery and happier days.