#daughterwithoutamother

[msscaparro-blog]

29 year old orphan.

Both of my parents died this year. My father in February right before I turned 29 and my mother in August. I knew my father was dying and he was in palliative care in my home. I took care of him in his final days, listened to his death rattle, and medicated him to keep him as comfortable as possible. My mother, on the other hand, had just had some heart issues within the last few years but we just thought if we could convince her to get into the doctor sooner rather than later, she’d be fine. She was under a doctors care, so we just thought some of her medication needed to be adjusted. The morning of the day she died, we’d told her that we’d be taking her in to the doctor on Monday against her will if we had to. So I was very shocked that afternoon when she had died. 

Now both of my parents are gone and I’m honestly not sure how I'm coping. I’m depressed and I’ve been having anxiety attacks. Sometimes I’m at work and I just freak out. I was very sad when my father died and have continued to mourn, but our relationship had been incredibly strained over the last decade. I will admit that there were times when he was sick that I would be frustrated with him and thought everyone would just be better off if he was gone. I harbored so much anger with him over the way he treated my mother, the blatant lies he told me to my face and the way he felt entitled to everything. He had changed quite a bit from when I was little and a “Daddy’s Girl” and at times I felt like I’d already mourned the loss of that man. 

The loss of my mother feels like I’ve lost part of my heart. She was one of my closest friends, my first great love. The first person I loved before I’d even seen her face. She was the only grandmother my son had left and she was one of my biggest supporters. She was batshit crazy sometimes but she was an incredibly loving person. Things had been a little different ever since she went through chemo and radiation for lung cancer two years ago but we thought “Well, they flushed her body with a lot of poison...that will take a long time to get over.” So the changes that she’d gone through just wanted to make me fret over her more. 

I knew how to move on with life after my father died. I don’t know how to move on after the death of my mother. Continue with me as I try to navigate life without her. 

[prettypinkprincess24-blog]

I love my mom<3

[prettypinkprincess24-blog]

A Daughter without a Mother

When my mother was very young, her mother abandoned her and her sister in a bank parking lot. Her mother had cashed in all of her husband’s savings and left them alone to fend for themselves. From the beginning, my mother never had any idea about what it took to be a mom. She had me at the young age of 22, and about three years later, she had my bother. When I was five and my brother was two, my father decided he no longer wanted to play the “daddy role” and left. I do not remember much about my childhood or why he left, but my parents were always fighting. After my father left, my grandma took my little brother to live with her but I refused to leave my mother. After my grandma took my little brother, I never left my mother’s side. Age six was when started to realize something was wrong. There were always empty bottles all over and if anyone knocked on the door I was ordered to hide. Not much longer after that, I was taken away and placed in a home with a new mother, father, and sister. I hated living there and prayed every night that my mother would come and save me, but she never came. My grandma found out and came to get me. I couldn’t have been happier to see her. I had so many questions that I needed to be answered. She told me that my mother was sick, and that she was in a place where she could get better. She also told me that I was going to live with her and my little brother while my mother was away. My grandma tried her best to make me feel at home, but all I wanted was to be with my mother and I made sure everyone around me knew that. Once my mother got better my grandma let me and my brother visit her, but we could never spend the night. This process occurred every weekend for a few years. When I got older I realized why I was taken away from my mother; she abused alcohol and drugs. My old memories began to make sense now, but I was just glad my Mother was better. She had been alcohol and drug free for five years. My brother and I were allowed to spend the night on the weekends, and stay with my mother for the whole summer vacation. We went to the beach, the water park and Tennessee. Every summer was a blast and I looked forward to spending it with them. We were finally becoming close as a family, and that’s all that I had ever wanted. Every thing was fine until my senior year of high school. When we were visiting my mother, I noticed an empty bottle in her purse. It was the same empty bottle I was so used to seeing as a kid. I confronted my mother, and told her we wanted nothing to do with her until she got better. We said our goodbyes and left. When she was drunk and would call me, I would hang-up. I refused to talk to her unless she was sober. I thought she would want to get her life back on track not only for herself, but for us as well. This continued all the way until July 5, 2010.

On July 5, 2010 I called my mother to wish her a Happy Birthday and as soon as she answered, I knew she was drunk; so I hung up like usual. A few hours later my cousin called me. She said that while my mother was eating a corndog, it came off the stick and she choked. It took the ambulance 20 minutes to get to her, and she had been without oxygen until they arrived. My mother was induced into coma and airlifted to Saginaw Hospital. Panic set in immediately. I called my little brother, who was up north, and we met at the hospital as soon as possible. All I could think about the entire way there was how mean I was to her on the phone, and how that could have of been the last time I ever got to speak to her.

Once we arrived, we sat and waited in the ICU waiting room with the rest of my family. Each hour that passed felt like days. Finally, the doctor came out and said we could go back and see her. The doctor informed us that my mother was still in coma, but that talking to her might help her wake up. My heart started pounding and I was more terrified than ever. I grabbed my little brother’s hand and together we entered my mother’s hospital room. There was complete silence except for the beeping of the monitors. My mother was covered in wires and had two tubes inserted in her throat. I was speechless. I just wanted to run away from everyone and everything, but I could not move. I just stood there, motionless, as tears began streaming down my face.

I stood by my mothers’ side until the doctors asked us to leave. They needed to run more tests. When the doctors returned, they asked my aunt if they could speak with her in private. When my aunt emerged she had a distraught look on her face. She explained to us that the test results were not what we had hoped. My mother had been without oxygen for such a long time and that her brain was severely damaged. The doctors did not think she would ever be able to walk, talk or understand anything again. The doctors suggested that we remove the breathing tube that was keeping her alive. The news was life shattering.

Since I was not 18 I could not make the final decision; however, my aunt wanted my input. It took me a long time to make up my mind. I decided not to remove the tube. My mother had overcome so many obstacles in her life, and I knew in the back of my mind she would pull through and prove the doctors wrong. Once the decision was made, all we could do was wait. My mother remained in coma for two long weeks. At first, when she finally awoke, I thought I might have made the wrong decision. She looked panicked and could not speak because the tubes in her mouth. I went to turn away, because I did not want to cry in front of her, when I heard a loud noise. I turned around and it was my mother; she wanted me to stay.

On day one of recovery she had already proven the doctors wrong. She remembered me and my brother. The second visit was great. She had the tubes removed and was talking back and forth with us. We visited her on and off for a few weeks and each time, her progress continued. She did not stay awake long, but we were just happy to see her. The third visit was when we discovered the reason why her memory seemed so cloudy. She had lost her short term memory and was no longer able to create long term memories. This meant that she would only be able to recall her memories from before the accident if she ever fully recovered. I was disappointed, but she had already progressed way further than the doctors ever expected. I was thankful for that, and all I could do is hope that in time she would progress even further. By the next visit she was walking and talking. We had to repeat ourselves a few times because she kept forgetting our conversation, but I was glad to do so. My mother was alive and doing better than anyone could have ever imagined. When the deck was stacked against her she overcame the odds and I could not be more thankful.

Today my Mother is in an assisted living home in Pigeon, Michigan. I call her at least twice a week and try to visit her every two months. She still has the same boyfriend she had before the accident and he tries to visit her every day. My cousin is her nurse and she makes sure that she is taken care of properly. She has gained a majority of her past memories back, but there are moments when her mind wanders. This experience with my mother has taught me that you should cherish every moment because you never know if it may be your last. I miss my mother each and every day and wish she could have been there for me and my brother. I wish she could have helped me pick out my prom dress or watch me walk and receive my diploma, but with that said I am thankful that she is still here. She may not be like most mom’s, but I am just glad that I still have her in my life.