August 1, 2013

Motherhood Without A Mother


Today I'm delighted to have Melissa Swedoski of Home On Deranged! She's here to tell the story of her mother, Betty (who could share glasses with me anytime!). Her mother passed from pulmonary fibrosis, the same disease that took M's grandma Dorothy, one of the Ds in DD's name.


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Today I’m kind of pensive, because it’s the third anniversary of my mother’s death. What a woman! So full of life and verve, I called her “crazy” many a time because, well, she acted like a crazy person. And she could infuriate you before you even turned around twice. But that’s what mothers do, so I’m told. And one day, my babies will say the same about me. In a good way, I hope!

But that’s just the thing. My babies will never know her. Will never know that she hated to cook but was really good at it. Will never know that she was really smart and never gave betty1 herself credit for it. Will never know how much she loved shopping for others, because they would have benefited greatly from that passion! They will never know how much she loved her family and was the reason for every single thing she did. Every day.

My mom was diagnosed with something called Pulmonary Fibrosis in 2006. She’d had a cough for a very long time, but she was so resistant about going to the doctor. I guess all of our complaining finally got to her. X-rays ultimately revealed something that the doctor called “honeycombs,” so they had to do a biopsy, which is when they figured out what would eventually snuff out the bright light that was Betty.

She hated wearing the nose canula for the oxygen. She was so vain, my mother. (That’s where I get it from!) She liked having her hair done, her makeup on and her clothes neatly pressed. Wearing the nose canula brought attention she didn’t like. Eventually, she had to use a wheelchair, because the physical exertion was too much, even with the oxygen. She hated that, too.

She died at home on Good Friday, April 2, 2010, with my dad, sister, husband and me surrounding her. The last thing she said to me was, “You can hold my hand if you want to.” And of course, I did.

I’m not telling you this to make you sad, but motherhood without a mother is really damn hard. Harder than I ever – in my control freaky mind – thought possible. What I would have given to hear her advice on getting through pregnancy, commentary on what I was doing wrong with my 2 year old, warnings about post partum depression, and what I’m sure would have been countless arguments over how much she was spoiling the grandchildren. And I would have lost every one, I’m sure.

I’ve only just scratched the surface of the person she was. And it’s only the tip of the iceberg to know what watching someone battling a terminal illness feels and looks like. So many mistakes made along the way and so much time I wasted, thinking I had more time.

But I tell you this – don’t ignore a recurring symptom of any kind. Suck it up and get it checked out. Don’t just accept what the first doctor tells you. Look for yourself and find another doctor if you need to. Don’t give up, whether you are the one that is sick or you are the one trying to help the one who is sick. And don’t miss out on a chance to tell someone, “I love you.” Seriously.

Let me know if you’ve had similar circumstances, or if you’re navigating the murky waters of motherhood without your mother. Oh, and if you haven’t already, please sign up to be an organ donor. The gift of life.

13 comments:

  1. What a beautiful post!! I'm so sorry for your loss. Thank you for reminding me that I'm so lucky to have my mother here today, it's easy to take my relationship with her for granted. I can only imagine how hard it is to navigate motherhood's landscape without your own mom to comfort and guide you. Thank you so much for sharing this. xo

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    1. Thank you for your kind words. You may be one of the sweetest bloggers I've had the good fortune to meet! :)

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  2. I'm sorry for your loss, Melissa! I was experiencing pregnancy and early motherhood with my mother half a world away, and as bad as it sounds now, I'm glad she was, otherwise she would have driven me absolutely nuts. She was already on the phone a lot: you shouldn't do this, you can't do that, do you want to kill your baby???, your poor baby will get sick, etc. But she's definitely a great grandmother to the girls most of the time.

    The way you describe your mother shows, that you have her personality and spirit deeply engrained in you. I bet you still talk to your mom, and I'm sure you know what she would tell you in those situation. I know, this is not the same as actually having your mother with you, but I know she lives on that way.

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    1. You know what, I do talk to my mom, or just try to imagine conversations with her and maybe what she would have said. But I'll admit it - I usually had no idea what was about to come out of her mouth, lol.

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  3. I couldn't imagine one day without my mom, I am so sorry for your loss! The years go by, but I'm sure it doesn't get any easier for you. Thank you for sharing in this sweet post.
    Nikki

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    1. Thank you, Nikki. No, I still would love to call her up and just gripe about something, or tell her the latest funny thing the girls did. I probably could have convinced her to get a webcam so we could see each other every day! :)

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  4. I am sitting here with wet eyes, trying not to glance at my girls for fear they'll see I'm crying.

    I lost my mom to emphysema 14 years ago, when I was 22. Of course I mourned her then, and there's rarely a day that goes by when I don't think about her.

    Since my girls were born 4 1/2 years ago, though, the pain is again magnified. I would so love to talk with her about my experiences, and see they compared to hers. I would so love for her to enjoy my girls, and them, her. And I would love another set of hands from time to time, too!

    Those feelings aside, like you, my situation gives me a tremendous amount of resolve. I will take good care of myself...if there is ANYTHING I can do to ensure I'm around for my girls 40 years from now, I'm going to do it!

    I have a handful of friends who've lost their moms, and it's an ugly club...one you don't want to belong to, of course...but it's been helpful for me to connect with other mamas who share this pain.

    Thank you for sharing your story. My very best to you and your sweet family.

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    1. Thank you so much! One thing I find myself doing lately is wishing I had thought to ask more about her life, the one before kids. I see now how much I missed out on by not having those conversations. But yeah, it pains me to know our daughters will never know her, at least not in the spoiling-them-rotten kind of way. :)

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  5. Such a sad story and I echo your sentiment. My father's death might have been preventable if he hadn't ignored his symptoms. I mourned him as a child, as best as I could understand, and then continuously as an adult. When I had kids, I missed him most of all.

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    1. You have so much more understanding because you were so very young. I know it encourages you to cherish your babies and husband that much more. It does for me!

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  6. Thank you for sharing your story. When I read these stories, I hope it strikes a cord in someone that is putting off their health and inspires them to investigate further.

    I have been navigating motherhood without my mother. No, she hasn't passed away, but has a disease as well- Alcoholism. She would come around for the first months when my sons were born, to hold them for an hour or so, and that would be it. No advice, no babysitting, no cheering them on at Little League. She was so wrapped up in her world, we didn't really fit in. It took her moving out of state and sobriety to realize what she is missing.
    I still don't get the mother/daughter parenting advice I dreamt of, but at least she is making an effort now. In all this, I have learned to strive to be the best, most present parent I can be.

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    1. Thank you for sharing that with me. It's so hard when you can't really talk to those who are supposed to be there for you, supportive of you and a shoulder to lean on when you need it. But you are already changing history by working to be the best mom you can be, and clearly, you are! :)

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  7. I know I'm 2 years late reading this - but I lost my mum 4 weeks ago and i've just read your blog. Everything you've said echos how I feel - what I would give to have my mum watch my twin toddlers grow up. To tell her i love her a million times. To get a second opinion when her doc told her she didn't have cancer. I hope you're doing okay and thank you for letting me know that I'm not the only one feeling these things! x

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