Living with your children after they have been on their own and grown was a major challenge. After I factored in all the hurt I had caused them, the misery I was in, it came as no surprise that we encountered serious issues. My son and daughter lived in a two story house that had been converted into two separate apartments. My daughter lived down stairs and my son, his wife and first born son lived upstairs. My son could hear when my daughter would loose it with me and it tore at his heart. My daughter was forced into being my care-taker, she still had so much hurt and anger towards me from her childhood woulds and the situation I had put her in. She tried to be nice and good and not loose her nut. In my feisty, ornery and pain, I would say things that led to her blow ups. I knew exactly which buttons to push, after all, I was the one who put them there.
Shortly after my moving in with my daughter, something else went horribly wrong. I had caught a virus from the assisted living/ rehabilitation facility and I couldn’t shake. My daughter had found a doctor for me who was set her her diagnosis that my symptoms were from that. Thankfully we had in home nursing, physical therapy and occupational therapy coming to the apartment. They listened to my daughter and what they saw validated her concerns. She took me to the local hospital where I was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. My cardiologist was humble enough to admit that I was beyond his ability to help. I was in such bad shape, he had to refer me to doctors that could help me. These doctors worked at a bigger hospital across the state, that specialized in the care I needed.
My daughter took on the responsibility of my power of attorney and got my condo sold. While she was out of state taking care of that my condition worsened. She knew the morning she left that my grand daughter who came to take care of me was going to have to get me to the hospital. She showed her where all my legal documents were, my insurance card, ID and some cash she would needed. Under the direction of my nurse, my grand daughter drove me across the state and I got admitted to the hospital I had been referred to. I was brought in through the ED, Emergency Department. My daughter drove through the night to get to me after the sale of my condo. I stayed in that hospital for two weeks.
The medical terminology for what was wrong with me was, cardiomyopathy of unknown etymology. That meant they had no idea what had caused the weakening of my heart. They pulled over 50 pounds of fluid off of my body. When the heart fails, fluid builds up in your extremities and around your heart and lungs. All of the tests they had run, showed no medical reason for my condition and revealed no surgical remedies for it. The doctors could not fix what was wrong with me. I was put on medications to sustain my life and keep my heart functioning with hope of improving with time I took this as a death sentence. I was just waiting around to die.
My daughter found us a bigger place to share. She arranged for help with the move and had us moved and settled into our new apartment. I was amazed at the friendships she had cultivated. She called them and they all came in rotating shifts which she coordinated masterfully. She beautifully combined what had been her home, with what had been mine. This way we both felt like it was our home.
My daughter gave up her life for me. She gave up her career and business she had been building. She gave up her friends and her social activities to take care of me. Sometimes my words belied how much it meant to me that she did that for me. That was the greatest act of love, I had ever been on the receiving end of.
My daughter was an exceptional care taker. Her career working with “special needs” individuals trained her well for the responsibility she had undertaken. She was on it with my medications. She patiently and lovingly gave me my showers, got me dressed and clipped my fingernails and toe nails. She made heart healthy meals for me and found everything funny she could for me to watch. She fully believed that Bible verse, about laughter being good medicine. She made sure I laughed everyday.
Our arguing got less and less. I watched my daughter lean on her faith and heavenly father in this season of life. I knew my daughter was strong and I had always admired her faith. I wanted to be like her. I got to see faith in real life lived out daily before my eyes. I witnessed a change in her. A change in her attitude and words towards me. God had done something in her heart and in her mind. All the wrong I had done, all the horrible things I had said to her seemed to have melted away. I could see love for me in her eyes again. I could feel her love in the things she did for me. Special treats or gifts she would purchase for me when she had run errands.
My son would come and bring his two boys over. While I was in the hospital across the state, his wife gave birth to their second son. His oldest would play games with my daughter and I. I was living a mother’s dream. I soaked it all up.
Three years later, my daughter got a call from my cardiologist’s office concerning recent test results. She was told that my heart had been restored to full functionality. I once again had a normal functioning heart. When she told me the news, I did not believe it. It was not possible. I had been living with this death sentence hanging over me for three years. I had been preparing myself for death. My daughter had to repeat what the doctor had said. She cried, I cried, we both experience a stay of execution and the relief was palpable.
I wrestled with why God would do this for me. It did not make sense to me that God would do such a thing for me. I had failed in every way, I had not lived life the way the Bible led and I did things God said not to do. I had “made my bed and had to lay in it.” The issues with my father, caused me immense difficulty in relating to and receiving love from my heavenly father. I asked my daughter, “Why would God do this for me?” Without hesitation, she said, “Because He LOVES you!” A life’s worth of tears flowed down my face. He LOVE me?? ME? God really LOVED me??? Something in me changed. I felt not only physical healing in my heart but also to the emotional wounds of my heart.
My daughter bought a house together and we moved once again. Once again her friends came at her call and she flawlessly orchestrated our move. God had provided a beautiful mountain top home for us. From my recliner in the living room, I had the best view of mountains and trees. My daughter would feed the birds and we would get daily bird shows. Live was pretty good.
During this time, my mother;s health had deteriorated. Her breast cancer returned, but this time chemo and surgery were not an option. My mother was diabetic, had atrial fibrilation, neuropathy, and dementia. She didn’t know who any one was most of the time and she spent her days living in her past. The call came on a Sunday in July of 2019, my mother had passed away in her sleep. I was inconsolable. My daughter tried to help me. She would tell me things like, “she is home with Jesus,” “She has been reunited with her parents, family and friends she lost in her life time.” She could not understand why I could not be happy for my mother. She could not understand that I had lost MY MOMMY and what that felt like. It was the most heart rending grief I had ever experienced. I cried daily. I hurt so bad, I did not want to live in a world, where my mother no longer did.
My daughter understood that she was inept in her ability to help me grieve, so she consulted experts. Day after day she would find a sermon or video on death and grieving an she also found a few sermons on Heaven. Those helped me more than anything. Thinking of Heaven, however they made me long to be there with my mother.
My daughter and I weathered the covid scare and in fact we enjoyed that we did not have to go anywhere or do anything. We had the best time watching great shows. Having worship sessions in our living room and watching sermons from the comfort of our own home. My son’s wife had had their third child, a little girl. I was elated to have a grand daughter. During covid my oldest grand son spent a couple days a week with us. I was blessed with the opportunity to bond with him and get to know him. He was like me, he excelled in mathematics. I loved that he got that from me. I was so proud to be his “granny nanny.” He made me laugh and would come play games with me. He was a delightful boy. His younger brother, seemed to have been born older. At 5 years of age, he would stand next to my chair and have these seemingly grown up conversations with me. He was an adorable young man.
For the last two years with my daughter, I got to have her all to myself. I had never liked sharing her with anyone else. The greatest joy a mother has is the company of her children once they have grown. My son came when ever he could and he always seemed to need and want to talk to me. Share with me the ups and downs of his life. He would even seek my counsel. What a high honor for your adult children come to you for advise.
My daughter never gave up trying to help me with those “Hurts, Habits and Hangups” I had. She had faithfully found sermons and preachers I came to like and learn from. I loved Pastor Steven Furtick and I loved the worship music that came out of his church. I did connect more with God and God would speak to me through Pastor Furtick as well as the other preachers we watched. I do not know how she knew from day to day, what it was I needed to hear, but more often than not she was spot on. My daughter was on a worship team at the time and she would learn how to play new songs every week on her guitar, that meant I too would learn a new song. “The Blessing” was one of my favorites. One day she was learning one that was lyrically simple but powerful. It was called, “House of Prayer” by Eddie James. He sung about God making him a house of prayer and asking the Lord to not let the fire go out. I found myself praying this over myself, that God would see fit to use me as and make me a house of prayer. I spent many of our days praying for anyone everyone that I knew was in need of prayer.
In December of 2021, my daughter got horribly sick. She had always been prone to getting horrible colds. She has had severe asthma her whole life. When she would get sick, it would always last for weeks. Unfortunately due to having gone no where for nearly two years (due to covid) and not getting up and moving around often. I caught what she had and my cold quickly turned to pneumonia. My daughter did her best to nurse me back to health. She got a nebulzing machine for me. She got me Ivermectin, Vitamin C, Vitamin D, Quercitin and my inhaler to help me.
One night she was helping me back to my chair after a trip to the bathroom. I had no strength left in my body, it was as if the I was a marionette whose strings had been cut. The two of us slid down to the floor together. Try as she might, my daughter was unable to get me up off of the floor. She called the non emergency EMS number to come to our aid. The men that came, were disinclined to leave me in my condition, even with the limited DNR on my refrigerator. They convinced my daughter to let them bring me to the hospital. There they gave me steroids for my lungs and antibiotics. In less than 48 hours my daughter had arranged for my return home. This was only permitted if she brought hospice in to help. A hospital bed and oxygen machine were delivered to my home.
There was a day that I felt better. My daughter seemed surprised by this. I asked her, “Doesn’t anyone think I’m going to get better.” With great sadness in her eyes, she told me no one had expected me to bounce back. A CNA came in a couple times a week to bathe me and check on me. I only remember seeing a nurse one time. My daughter told me several times a day how much she loved me and had come to love taking care of me. That it had been an honor for her to be able to do that for me. My son would come over to check on my status and tell me that he loved me. He was not willing to accept that I would not be here much longer. I was unable to get out of bed period. I had to wear adult diapers and allow my daughter to change me.
I was not cognizant of what day it was or where I was on most days. I would sleep some days away only to we wide awake at night and disoriented the following day. One day two my daughter’s close friends came to pray for me. I had not spoken to my daughter in days. She came to my bed side to reintroduce me to the husband and wife that had come to pray for me. When I saw him, I blurted out, “Well, Hi there! I’d take you anytime!” I did not mean to fortify my daughter but I had. I overheard her telling my son, I defended myself and told them both, “well, he was cute!” They both laughed. I had fun conversations with my daughter and the CNA that came most of the time. I hope those will be happy memories for my daughter to hold on to.
My daughter continued to faithfully play worship music for me and sermons for me. I was in and out of it. I didn’t know I was in my own home, I saw people coming and going. I never got to tell my daughter, thank you for all she had done for me. I did not have the opportunity to impart any last words of wisdom, or said I love you one last time. There are so many things I wished I had been able to say, but I couldn’t get the words out. The medicine was strong and I was weak. In the end I was not my daughter’s Hero, she had become mine.
I had to give my mother some very strong pain medication and anti psychotics to keep her from being agitated. She was there with me physically, but she was no longer really there. She no longer responded to me or spoke to me. I already missed her voice and I had no idea how I was going to live without her. That is the one thing she did not prepare me for, was life with out her. I imagine that God had her all to himself in that time, to help her get rid of the last of her forgiveness, bitterness, and hurt. To allow Him to heal all that before bringing her home to be with him. Part of me wonder’s if in that time she finally decided that my love for her was finally enough to make her live. While everything else in her body shutdown and failed, her heart remained strong and steady. This was a medical marvel to her Hospice doctor, nurse and staff. God brought my mom home to be with him Friday February 11, 2022.