Hey mamas.
I haven't been around lately. My mother died on October 13th and I've been walking around in a haze since then. I'm not sure why I'm posting anything about it here other than to get it out, I suppose.
It wasn't an unexpected thing, but it was still a shock. My mother was a heavy drinker and smoker for over 40 years, and it finally caught up with her. As a result of her self-abuse she had completely ruined hips, which led to lack of circulation in her legs and wounds that wouldn't heal. She never wanted to get surgery and her health just got worse and worse. On top of it all she had emphysema. Two years ago she had to have neck surgery to replace part of her spinal column, which I think was related to her lack of activity and being wheelchair bound. Since the surgery she had declined more rapidly, and the past few months wasn't eating or drinking very much and was getting extremely thin.
She was admitted to the hospital after falling and lying on the floor for a number of hours while my stepfather was out, and when they saw her they immediately sent her to the ICU where she was intubated with everything you could imagine - she was severely malnourished and dehydrated, had low electrolytes, low potassium, low red blood cells, and her body had started consuming muscle to survive. She had to have multiple transfusions and bags upon bags of fluids pumped into her. To make matters worse, she started to go through detox and nicotine withdrawal at the same time as all this was happening.
Long story short, the ICU doctor described her as "a 60-year old with the body of a 100-year old" and that she had abused herself so severely for so long that she simply had no reserves left to fight. When her body rejected the feeding tube and the fluids she was receiving were going into her tissues, we knew that she wouldn't make it. We took her off the machines and stood vigil over her until she died.
I've never seen someone die before, and it was terrible. In some ways it wasn't as bad as I feared, but in others it was much, much worse. The images are seared in my mind for the rest of my life.
I can't sleep. I try to keep busy so I don't have to think. When I lay down at night I just start thinking, thinking, thinking and I have to get up to watch television or read until I pass out from exhaustion. Since I stay up so late I can't get up in the morning and spend a lot of time lying around in bed or on the couch while my son watches PBS and destroys things. I am a horrible parent right now. I feel so guilty that I'm not able to get motivated enough to take him out or entertain him, he's getting so stir crazy and is starting to act out. I know it's all my fault.
My friends and family have been so wonderfully supportive to me, but I can't expect someone to be here 24/7 to hold my hand and help me deal. I'll have a few days where I feel fine for the most part, I can keep up on housework and play with my son and feel like a normal person. Then I take a downturn and get depressed for days and days. I can hardly drag myself out of bed, I'm so on edge and I yell at my son a lot. I hate myself for it. I don't want to be like this. I don't answer the phone and I can't manage to get out of the house. I tell myself every night, "Okay, tomorrow morning I'm going to get out of bed, get dressed, and take kidlet out to the park," but when morning comes I feel so exhausted and overwhelmed that I can't even bring myself to think about it. I get flummoxed by something as simple as a sink full of dishes or a pile of unwashed laundry, not being able to get past it and do something about it.
My husband has been so so so understanding, he never knows if he'll come home to a clean house and me, happy, cooking dinner, or a darkened house cluttered with toys and dishes and me lying on the couch in my pajamas. I feel so awful for not being able to get this under control.
I miss my mom so much. We had a terrible relationship when I was a kid, and it took growing up and living away from her to finally be able to work on repairing what relationship we had. It was never perfect or what I wished it could be, but we did the best we could with what we had. I never realized just how much a part of my life she was until now that she's gone.
I keep catching myself thinking, "I should call Mom and tell her this," and then I remember she's dead. I stumbled across a message she left on my answering machine, I must have listened to it ten times. My stepfather brought over the sweaters she was working on for my son and my niece, they still need to be blocked and put together. I looked at the pieces, smelled her on them, then sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out.
I don't know what to do. I keep thinking, "I should talk to someone," or "I should get out of the house every day, even for a walk," but I can't bring myself to do it. Even coming here and posting this is a huge deal for me. The one thing I have done is I decided to do NaNoWriMo and write my 50,000 words about my mom. Even if it's never an actual novel and just my own personal work, I think it's therapeutic to get it all out there.
I'd also like to say that Thomi'sMommy is a blessing. She has been there for me throughout this whole time. She came to my house every day for nearly a week to keep me company when my mom was in the hospital, she stayed overnight to watch my son while we were standing vigil, she has cooked me food and driven 25 miles one way to visit me time and time again. She listens to me ramble on the phone just about every day.
I don't know how I would cope (if you even want to call it that) without you. Thank you so much.
Thomi'sMommy also said something to me that is so important. A lot of people think that when they make a decision, such as to smoke or drink, that it only impacts themselves so it's no one else's business. The truth of the matter is that anyone who comes into contact with that person is affected, so one person's poor decisions impacts more than just themselves. People need to realize that. My mother made some terrible choices in her lifetime, and now we're left to pick up the pieces. I'm so angry with her for that and having a hard time processing these feelings with the compassion and sadness I feel at the same time.
I don't know what else to say. I feel so mixed up. A 31-year old is not supposed to bury their 60-year old mother. I should have had another 20 years to prepare for this. I don't know where to go from here.
I haven't been around lately. My mother died on October 13th and I've been walking around in a haze since then. I'm not sure why I'm posting anything about it here other than to get it out, I suppose.
It wasn't an unexpected thing, but it was still a shock. My mother was a heavy drinker and smoker for over 40 years, and it finally caught up with her. As a result of her self-abuse she had completely ruined hips, which led to lack of circulation in her legs and wounds that wouldn't heal. She never wanted to get surgery and her health just got worse and worse. On top of it all she had emphysema. Two years ago she had to have neck surgery to replace part of her spinal column, which I think was related to her lack of activity and being wheelchair bound. Since the surgery she had declined more rapidly, and the past few months wasn't eating or drinking very much and was getting extremely thin.
She was admitted to the hospital after falling and lying on the floor for a number of hours while my stepfather was out, and when they saw her they immediately sent her to the ICU where she was intubated with everything you could imagine - she was severely malnourished and dehydrated, had low electrolytes, low potassium, low red blood cells, and her body had started consuming muscle to survive. She had to have multiple transfusions and bags upon bags of fluids pumped into her. To make matters worse, she started to go through detox and nicotine withdrawal at the same time as all this was happening.
Long story short, the ICU doctor described her as "a 60-year old with the body of a 100-year old" and that she had abused herself so severely for so long that she simply had no reserves left to fight. When her body rejected the feeding tube and the fluids she was receiving were going into her tissues, we knew that she wouldn't make it. We took her off the machines and stood vigil over her until she died.
I've never seen someone die before, and it was terrible. In some ways it wasn't as bad as I feared, but in others it was much, much worse. The images are seared in my mind for the rest of my life.
I can't sleep. I try to keep busy so I don't have to think. When I lay down at night I just start thinking, thinking, thinking and I have to get up to watch television or read until I pass out from exhaustion. Since I stay up so late I can't get up in the morning and spend a lot of time lying around in bed or on the couch while my son watches PBS and destroys things. I am a horrible parent right now. I feel so guilty that I'm not able to get motivated enough to take him out or entertain him, he's getting so stir crazy and is starting to act out. I know it's all my fault.
My friends and family have been so wonderfully supportive to me, but I can't expect someone to be here 24/7 to hold my hand and help me deal. I'll have a few days where I feel fine for the most part, I can keep up on housework and play with my son and feel like a normal person. Then I take a downturn and get depressed for days and days. I can hardly drag myself out of bed, I'm so on edge and I yell at my son a lot. I hate myself for it. I don't want to be like this. I don't answer the phone and I can't manage to get out of the house. I tell myself every night, "Okay, tomorrow morning I'm going to get out of bed, get dressed, and take kidlet out to the park," but when morning comes I feel so exhausted and overwhelmed that I can't even bring myself to think about it. I get flummoxed by something as simple as a sink full of dishes or a pile of unwashed laundry, not being able to get past it and do something about it.
My husband has been so so so understanding, he never knows if he'll come home to a clean house and me, happy, cooking dinner, or a darkened house cluttered with toys and dishes and me lying on the couch in my pajamas. I feel so awful for not being able to get this under control.
I miss my mom so much. We had a terrible relationship when I was a kid, and it took growing up and living away from her to finally be able to work on repairing what relationship we had. It was never perfect or what I wished it could be, but we did the best we could with what we had. I never realized just how much a part of my life she was until now that she's gone.
I keep catching myself thinking, "I should call Mom and tell her this," and then I remember she's dead. I stumbled across a message she left on my answering machine, I must have listened to it ten times. My stepfather brought over the sweaters she was working on for my son and my niece, they still need to be blocked and put together. I looked at the pieces, smelled her on them, then sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out.
I don't know what to do. I keep thinking, "I should talk to someone," or "I should get out of the house every day, even for a walk," but I can't bring myself to do it. Even coming here and posting this is a huge deal for me. The one thing I have done is I decided to do NaNoWriMo and write my 50,000 words about my mom. Even if it's never an actual novel and just my own personal work, I think it's therapeutic to get it all out there.
I'd also like to say that Thomi'sMommy is a blessing. She has been there for me throughout this whole time. She came to my house every day for nearly a week to keep me company when my mom was in the hospital, she stayed overnight to watch my son while we were standing vigil, she has cooked me food and driven 25 miles one way to visit me time and time again. She listens to me ramble on the phone just about every day.
I don't know how I would cope (if you even want to call it that) without you. Thank you so much.
Thomi'sMommy also said something to me that is so important. A lot of people think that when they make a decision, such as to smoke or drink, that it only impacts themselves so it's no one else's business. The truth of the matter is that anyone who comes into contact with that person is affected, so one person's poor decisions impacts more than just themselves. People need to realize that. My mother made some terrible choices in her lifetime, and now we're left to pick up the pieces. I'm so angry with her for that and having a hard time processing these feelings with the compassion and sadness I feel at the same time.
I don't know what else to say. I feel so mixed up. A 31-year old is not supposed to bury their 60-year old mother. I should have had another 20 years to prepare for this. I don't know where to go from here.
to you all.
H.
