this mother's day

Today, my mother's day gift is to do what I like. My husband offered a meal out and making a celebration out of the day with his mother and mine...but this is what I wanted. So we all slept in (Mom included!), then had homemade pancakes (from the freezer, warmed up) while watching the Sunday news shows. Mom joined us when she awoke and while she ate her breakfast, I went outside and picked some flowers for her. I gave these to her with a kiss and the wish of "a Happy Mothers Day". She was pleased, but immediately asked where her mother was. This is a common subject of her conversation lately and there seems to be no good answer...the truth makes her very sad (and she never remembers it), vague comments ("I haven't seen her lately either.") don't satisfy...so we usually go with distraction...as we did today by bringing her attention back to the flowers and breakfast. 

I knew that the day wouldn't mean much to Mom....she doesn't really remember being a mother. And tho' she knows she is my mother (I think), she isn't motherly anymore and seems to find no connection to the stories I tell her of her life as a mother to me and my brothers.  And I knew that my eldest son was working today and couldn't come home...so, since it won't be a sweet and celebratory day, it can atleast be a restful day with no demands. My loving husband is the main caregiver today, and now that Mom is napping, he and my youngest son are beginning to tackle a big garden project (mulching the paths) that will make me very happy when it is done, and I am spending a lot of time in my studio and online, researching a new project to keep me inspired and connected.

So I am finding the goodness to be had in today. But there is definitely a melancholy in the air. Tho' my mothering is the heart of my life, today, we can't seem to give it the attention we usually do on Mother's Day. This is an aspect of living with dementia that would be good to explore, when I am feeling more expressive...how the energy seems to naturally go towards the person most in need (Mom), minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day...so it takes alot of energy to go beyond that to what you would usually give your attention to. And it even takes alot of energy, I find, to ignore those needs (when it is safe) and distract myself from it all. But we are learning to balance Mom's needs and our own. As I typed this last paragraph, I have been watching Mom on the monitor. She woke up early from her nap, just before the menfolk went outside, but my husband encouraged her to go back to sleep and she seemed glad to. But as often happens, something drives her to get up , tho' she loves to sleep. I just peeked in the house and watched her walk through it and see out the kitchen window that her son-in-law and grandson are working in the garden. Now she is sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space (her default activity), and my heart is touched and I know I will be typing one last sentence or two and going to rescue her from her emptiness. Perhaps it is not too cold for her to come sit with me on the porch while we watch the mulch going in, perhaps the wifi will reach out there and I can continue my research...probably not, tho'. Perhaps it will seem fine to spend some time just sitting side-by-side for a little while. I hope so.

As it turned out, after we watched the beautiful work being accomplished in the garden for a few
short minutes, Mom closed her eyes and I just left her resting on the chaise. It may not last long, but I am going to enjoy another little while in my studio. All day, and as I have been writing this, I have been thinking of all of you who are mothering mothers...and how hard it can make a day like today...and all of the days that aren't Mothers Day (or Mothering Sunday in the UK) for that matter, and I am sending you love.

consoling

Mom and I are watching the final of the Monte Carlo tennis tournament this Sunday afternoon...well, I am sort-of watching while I read caregiving blogs and write my own. It was a hard night last night. Mom was up numerous times, getting dressed, looking for dishes for lunch, finding the whole idea (when I attempted to explain it-I still try to reason with Mom too much even tho' I know it is pointless) of sleeping when it is dark outside rather amusing and implausible. Ah me...

The worse part was when I just couldn't reassure her and she stopped using words and "chattered"her teeth at me. Mom has been doing this more often and it is undermining the atmosphere of normalcy that we strive for. But I am aware that part of the heaviness that accompanies such changes is my fear that life with Mom will become less peaceful, less bright, less polite. And I am aware that my wanting of everyday life to stay close to what we are accustomed to is probably folly. And I am aware that as Mom can't help any of this, it is up to me to keep learning how to handle it all. Last night and today, that has meant a combination of anguished moments looking at the moon before bed, felt prayers for Mom and me and every other struggling person on this planet, escape into books and movies, dark chocolate, tears just enough below the surface that Mom won't see them, filling my eyes with the brightness of the dogwood blossoms through the living room window.

I am not getting outside enough these lovely Spring days. The temperatures in the seventies seem to always be accompanied by a delightful-to-me but unwelcome-to-Mom cool breeze. Getting her outside and set-up comfortably doesn't usually seem worth the effort for the short time she will be happy there. But I need to make the effort anyway, for my own well-being. I have felt too stuck lately, choosing to hang out in front of the tv with Mom because it is easier than anything else. What I need are hours pulling weeds and planting  seedlings and just laying upon the flowery earth.

We are in a phase, I suppose, a phase that will pass and then circle around again. Just now, we are very aware of all that this commitment calls for from us. My husband I cling to each other sometimes in the kitchen when something  unnerving has happened with Mom. We wonder how we will go on without the cheerful, funny presence of our youngest son who will be graduating in a few months. We wonder about so many things. And we feel so many things. And we keep going on. Finding other perspectives always helps, Mom's naptime is coming, and I just returned from a few fresh and sunny moments outside letting the goats back into their paddock and listening to the hens gentle murmurs. 

I will keep trying to reassure Mom whenever I am able, and myself, as well. It will be alright, not all
of the time, but enough.

*Just finishing up here after a spell of weeding amongst the rosemary and lavender, and a quick lunch of homemade guacamole and tortilla chips (and getting Mom back to sleep during her nap)...I know I have to shift...that the childish faces and sounds she is making show me how lost and helpless she feels...that I will have to enter more whole-heartedly than I have been able to into responding to her as a mother would to her child. I have been resisting the stuffed animals and the soothing and helping her more. Why? I think I have worried that these things would hurry her along the path she is on, that they will deplete me when I feel like I have been "storing" up energy and strength for even harder days ahead...and because it just feels odd and hard to me. Just this afternoon I caught Mom's eye during the tennis match...she was animated for a moment and for an even briefer moment I saw the old Mom, beautiful Lo Padgett, my loving mother and rather amazing woman. Then she was gone and I saw the frail, confused mom who needs me so much. I will step up my game, I will try to be more what Mom needs me to be right now and make sure not to lose myself in the meanwhile.

getting on with it

It is interesting how long it can take to accept, get used to and just get on with things. For me, anyway, it can take a long, long time. Lately, tho', it has been easier just to get on with it-whatever "it" may be. And this in spite of the constant distraction and problem-solving of the build for my mom's new rooms (nearly there...will share soon!). Bath day is a good example...I don't know why I tended to dread it until very recently. In the early days with Mom, it was nerve-wracking working around the broken wrist, her wobbliness in the shower, the challenge of helping her to stand up after a bath. Now, we are old pros at it...showers only, accomplished as quickly as possible before she tires, all the shampooing and washing rituals firmly in place.

I have learned to respect Mom's shyness about the whole process, and the fact that she can't remember that we have done this week in, week out for more than a year. So I repeat the same instructions and assurances as we go through each step...most steps of which she can still do herself, which is something I don't ever take for granted. The one part of "bath day" that I do completely is the flossing of her teeth. But we have that down to a quick and not-bad-at-all process with flossing sticks and yummy natural mouthwash.

And throughout the process are moments when Mom breaks into little songs that she make up about some phrase I have spoken-"step over carefully" or "sit down on the toilet". It is sweet. She always expresses her appreciation of how good the lotion feels when I massage it into legs and arms and back. 

Tho' it is a strain for her to hear me while her hearing aids are out during the whole bath-time, I jolly her along with jokes and reminiscence...reminding her, for instance, when I encouraged her to try to throw the crumpled tissue in the trash-basket (it hit the rim!), that she was called "Dead-eye" in high school for her basketball talents. 

A few weeks ago as I was sitting on the rug at her feet, rubbing lotion onto her legs, Mom said "I used to do this for my mother." I stopped in surprise...Mom hasn't remembered anything about caring for her mother (which she did for the last ten or so years of my grandmother's life) for many years. I asked her what she did for her mother. She replied "helped her to bathe". I found this very moving. And it is these little "rewards" of memory, insight, humor and connection that help me to keep on with a little more ease and energy than I might otherwise have.

 

*These photos were taken a few weeks ago when I took my mom on a walk to our old orchard to see the asian pear tree in bloom. She didn't enjoy it as I had hoped she would...the air was too cold, the earth too rough for her, but she perked up when she saw this "fellow" in the tree. We laughed at his forlorn face, and for once, I wasn't spooked by what she "sees" in the trees and fields. For once, I could see it, too.*

steady days

...are what we have been enjoying for the past six weeks

or so. Not without ups and downs, of course, and small sadnesses when I notice that Mom is losing a little ground. Some words have been harder for her to find, her habits that have been like clockwork...making the bed, washing her face morning and night, changing clothes....aren't so habitual these days. So there has been a little more oversight and reminding than usual, and therefore a little bit more of Mom's comments to me in the vein of "Ok, Mom" after I make a suggestion. I am taking it with good humor most of the time, but I have many ideas up my sleeve for taking my suggestions and reminders out of the picture now and then.

As a mother, I have been fond of creating little signs and lists and such to guide my sons in their tasks over the years. I made one just this morning to help my 18-year old move through his home studies with just a little more efficiency and focus. The thing is....I just don't know if they will work for Mom.

But if she starts waking up more in the night, or my "reminding" ("cueing" I remember the assisted living place called it) starts to bother her (or me), we will give my ideas a try. For now, we will just go on trying to keep the days steady. That phrase comes from a mothering book I found today at the library that I will be reading to see if there is anything in it that will help smooth our days (whether we have a child in the house or not). I've learned that the steadiness or wobbliness of the day mostly depends upon me. I lost my calm and acceptance for a few days early in the week, and those days really reflected it....mostly inside myself....but that is profound enough to greatly alter my patience and creativity with Mom...and to cause many a tear to fall (mine-in private).  Equilibrium is back again, and I am grateful for it, tho' I don't know why it left or why it returned. Sometimes I am aware that I lose it because I drop my defenses against all that is hard and sad and perplexing about all of this. And sometimes I wonder if it is healthy to cope so much through avoidance....but it is working for now, and I have plenty of time to add more facets to my coping in the future. For now, we are in a good groove...

...never more so than we are zipping along in Mom's convertible beetle, along the straight country roads, listening to the old and new songs I find on the radio, tapping our hands. The best times are when Mom will sing a line or two, it usually happens with songs from the seventies...the Bee Gees, Billy Joel...and I realize that I am the age Mom would have been when those songs where topping the charts. Then I put that thought away and get back in the groove.