Day 201: The Beginning of The End

It looks like I wasn't wrong. As much as I wanted to be, I wasn't. Mom has been steadily declining since my last post. And I have been in a place where I couldn't even figure out how to string two words together in order to make this post.

The good times are over. Mom's hospice nurse saw her today and, although not saying it in direct words, told mom and dad that this is probably as good as it is going to get. I have talked to mom and dad 4 times a day for the past week and I can hear the progression just over the phone. Tonight mom sounded terrible. I can hear fluid in her lungs. She is declining so fast.

And yet, as her Hospice nurse said today, Mom hasn't been a classic case. She was dying and then miraculously (truly miraculously) she got better. The hospital bed and the commode and the walker and the wheelchair were all taken away. Mom and dad went to the casino, they visited with friends and family, they went out to dinner. And it was an incredible blessing. Our family was given the gift of time. I got about 170 more days with my mom than I thought I was going to have. Dad and I discussed that blessing tonight and then he said, through tears, "I just wish it could have been more." I asked him if he was okay, my voice cracking, trying to hold back my own tears. He said he thought he was and that he just hoped he was strong enough to handle what was to come.

And when we hung up, it came. From deep down inside it bubbled to the surface and I cried. It was a wail actually. The pain was overwhelming. I couldn't breathe. It was pain and fear and sadness and anger all muddled together. Olly heard me from across the house and came in to hold me. It's the only thing that helped me compose myself. But I know there is so much more to come.

Right now I don't know if mom has hours or days or weeks or months left. All I know is that in whatever time she has left, I need her not to suffer. I can't stand it. Dad said tonight what I've been thinking for days...basically that he hopes it goes fast...for mom's sake. And then he said, "maybe I shouldn't think that way" and I told him I completely understood. How do you wish for someone to die and want them never to die at the same time?

The wheelchair and the walker are coming back. They are signs of something I don't want to see. Don't want to admit.

I have a client due and I want to be at that birth. I need to see a baby born. The circle of life and all of that...Plus, I don't want to let my client down. At the same time I don't know how I just keep going day to day, doing schoolwork, teaching classes, attending births, cleaning the house, etc., etc., etc. when my mom is dying. I want the world to stop. I want it all just to stop so I can focus solely on my mom and dad. But it doesn't work that way. If I stop working, I'll be living out of a box. So, I keep going. I keep trying to find some sort of joy in my days. But always, ALWAYS, in the back of my mind is the constant thought...My mom is dying. This isn't going to get better this time. Unfortunately, it's only going to get worse.

All the reality is setting in. You'd think that would have already happened, but the mind is really an amazing thing. It knew that mom was dying, but it let me live in the happy world where things were okay. I didn't have to go to the scary side as long as the happy world existed.

Now, there is no happy world to go to. Now the reality is staring me in the face. Now every phone call to mom and dad ends with overwhelming sadness. Now Michael and I have to talk to dad about how he wants to handle things from here. We need to help him. And somehow we need to help ourselves. I honestly don't know how to be a Mother and a Childbirth Educator and a Doula and a student AND lose my mom. I don't know how to do it. And yet, from past experience, I guess I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and I keep moving forward.

Last spring, shortly after mom was diagnosed, I was hired to be a Doula for a lovely woman named Kelly. We chatted a bit as we got to know one another and I learned that her mom, Nancy, had died many years previously from Leukemia. I remember the shock I felt at the time. I remember just knowing I was supposed to be her Doula. Her daughter was born in July and her middle name is Nancy. Kelly knows I've been struggling as of late and sent me an e-mail of support yesterday. In it she said, "Losing one's mother is as transforming as coming into the world with her." Although I haven't quite passed over that threshhold, I am certain she is right. Today as I was recovering from my eruption of emotions, I said to Olly that I don't know how anyone goes about living on this earth without their mother. I know people do it every day. But, as of right this moment, I don't understand it. This is the woman who gave me life. Of course, one day I knew she would die, but not this early and now I know, I would never have been ready. How do you say goodbye to someone who gave you everything you have?

I don't know how to end this. I don't know a perfect ending for a post entitled The beginning of the end. Part of me doesn't even want to end it because posting it makes it all real. But that's what this blog was for...my own personal therapy.

I did find my mom in the last 201 days. I was able to heal wounds inside of me that needed to be healed. I didn't need explanations or answers as I thought I did. I didn't need anything, but the time I received. My entire life I wondered why my mom had me when she didn't ever seem to want kids. It has been a theme throughout my life. I don't need those answers anymore. I truly don't. All I need to know is that she gave me my life. She sacrificed so incredibly much for me. And I know without a doubt, without an inkling of a doubt now, that she loves me. I wish I had taken the time to truly understand all of that before. I will probably forever regret the times I didn't spend with her. But I was given these past 200 days to understand. What I don't understand is why she has to leave now? Why? Why give me the answers I needed only to take her away from me? Why?

Mom is going. Before her physical body gives out, her mind most likely will. And although I might still be able to hold her hand, she won't be able to respond to me. But, tonight, as in every phone call over the past few months, she said to me, through a rattling voice, "Kelli, I love you." That's all she could say. And that's all I needed to hear. And as I've repeated over and over for the past few months, I said, while holding back tears, "I love you Mom." I know she loves me and I know she knows I love her. But like my dad, I just wish we had more time to continue to tell each other that.