For the longest time I always said I would not do a blog. I just don't have the time what with work, 2 kids, my family, dinner, laundry, cleaning, and all those things in between. But today, I find myself in need of writing. So, here goes.
My mom passed away a year ago July 16. Let me explain.
It's always been me and my mom since I can remember. My parents were divorced when I was six and I only saw my dad three other times, one of them being his funeral (where I met my brother for the first time - a whole different story). So, I lived with my mom. We had a place on the farm behind my grandparents house. Everything was great until I was about 9 or 10. My mom was a diabetic from a very young age, and even ended up in a coma at the age of 16. She came out of that. But from then on, she had a lot of issues due to her being diabetic. My entire life she was a fighter.
She was in an out of a hospital since I was 10 years old. There was a time she was so sick and on medication that she literally slept all day, so I learned to take care of myself. There were other times where she would be driving and would have an insulin reaction and could not function. I remember her doing this right on a main street. I had to drive the car and get it pulled over to call 911. Those days were hard. I figured out cooking, cleaning, laundry - and at first I didn't mind. By the time I was in middle school my mom had her first transplant: kidney and pancreas. She was in the hospital for a while and I stayed with my "second" mom Anne. Mom went through a lot with the transplant. But, she still had other issues that came from the transplant and the medications she had to take.
I was with my mom all the time. When I say all the time, she came with me to my senior beach week. Looking back now, I wouldn't give those memories up for anything. Looking at it then, I was pissed. All of my friends got to go hang out, no adult supervision - and here I am in a beach house with my mom. I laugh about it now, because we did actually have a lot of fun. But as a teenager, you look at things so differently. As I went on to college, I was only 45 minutes away - just in case.
In college, there were many scares and hospitals still. She had another transplant: this time my grandfather donated one of his. She had a hard time coming out of this surgery. And from then on, she was in an out of hospitals. She was sick at my wedding, and literally that Monday was hospitalized.
Somehow she always made it to the most important things. I can't remember how many times she was in the hospital or sick because there were so many. But I can tell you she only missed one birthday that I can remember, was there for my wedding, and the birth of both of my children.
She was with me the weekend before she was hospitalized for her final time. It was Mother's day weekend. We talked about all sorts of things and ate lunch at Ruby Tuesday. She left on Sunday and Monday morning was hospitalized. She was having trouble breathing. When I arrived at the hospital in Halifax she was hooked up to a breathing machine and completely out of it. She had no idea I was there. After weeks and weeks of no improvement, we had her transferred to another hospital. We headed to Lynchburg because there were no bed at UVA which is where we wanted to go since her she had all of her transplants there. She was in Lynchburg for a while and there were a few glimmers of hope, but eventually we were told there was nothing more they could do and she was sent to UVA.
She was there for a long time as well. It was difficult for me to see her like this especially since I was working and had two kids at home. It was hard for me to get there as much as I wanted to and I don't think some of my family understood what I was going through.
During that time, I had to travel back and forth and stay in Charlottesville, which was a mental, physical, and financial drain. If it wasn't for great friends, I don't know what I would have done. There was a point at UVA that my mom was actually sitting up in the bed and could talk to us. Of course we had to wear those yellow suits and masks to go in to see her, and she definitely made fun of us for those. She always had a sense of humor. The last time she was really alert, I brushed her hair and put it in a pony tail like she wanted. And Will (my husband) got her the cheeseburger she wanted (Ruby Tuesday of course). After that weekend, she went back into the ICU never to come out.
Those weeks were so difficult. I slowly saw my mom fading away. I knew she was a fighter and my family kept saying just hold on everything is going to be okay. No one wanted to tell her the truth, or tell her how bad it was. Well, everyone except me and Karen. We were always honest, the way mom wanted us to be.
There came a day near the end where I went in to see her and just sit and talk to her. She was on life support, couldn't move and could only nod a little and sometimes squeeze your hand. This is what I said to her:
I told her I loved her more than she would ever know and that she was the best mommy in the entire world. I asked her if she was worried about my kids and she nodded. So I made her a promise right then and there that her babies would be taken care of and that I would always protect them. Of course I also promised to take care of Scooter (her cat) - which for everyone that knew her knows he was her pride and joy. She nodded.
I told her I loved her so much AGAIN. She nodded and squeezed my hand - you could see the love in her tired eyes. I knew I had to ask her. I knew she didn't want to live this way - we had talked about it. I asked her if she was tired of fighting. She nodded. I tried hard to hold it together (sort of like I'm doing now) and I said," Mom, I love you. It's okay to let go. I understand." She squeezed my hand and closed her eyes. A few days later, she was gone. When she was taken off life support, she went immediately. I felt comfort in that, knowing that it was the right thing and giving her what she wanted even if it meant losing her.
Crazy thing is - it all started with a busted ear drum.
Of course there are bits and pieces left out of this story, but this story is the short version of my mom and there are only moments before my kids come running in here to jump on top of me. My mom was a volunteer and fighter for her entire life. And losing her is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. I miss the 25 phone calls a day (literally), I miss her telling me how I am doing something wrong, I miss the love that she gave my children, and most importantly I miss the love she gave me.
