As I drove to the hospital this past Tuesday to go visit my mom, my stomach was one big, twisted knot. My younger brother saw our mom the day before and said it was weird seeing her like that. That being vulnerable.
We’re big kids now, but I guess we still kind of think of Mom as a superhero who has no kryptonite (unless you count her never-ending loyalty to the Cubs). So there was a disconnect between the image I have of my mom and what I saw when I walked into the room.
Nothing – nothing – prepares you to see a loved one supine in a hospital bed surrounded by a maze of medical tubes and contraptions.
All things considering, she looked great. She had come out of extensive surgery less than 24 hours earlier. As I looked at her, I kept telling myself, “This is not a life or death hospital stay. This is hopefully going to make her feel better. It’s not like she has cancer or something.”
Intellectually I knew all of this, but emotionally I felt like I’d been scraped out and there was nothing left inside of me but the realization that someday my mom – this beautiful, strong woman I love and admire who tucked notes beneath my pillow at night and introduced me to a personal God who would be there for me even when she couldn’t be – was going to die and worse, I might have to helplessly watch it happen.
When I first arrived, we casually talked. We prayed together. I made M.E. giggle for Mom (talk about good therapy).
Then I started to cry.
I had every intention of not letting my emotional drawbridge down; I certainly didn’t want to burden Mom with worries about how her daughter was feeling when she needed to be focusing on her recovery and rehabilitation. But there’s something about being in a room with Mom. You let your guard down. You say what you’re feeling, and you know you won’t be judged. You tell her, “It’s hard seeing you like this,” and you find her forehead through a film of tears and you kiss it. You’ve seen a glimpse of her mortality, and you are afraid, so you seek her comfort even when you know she’s the one who could use some emotional pampering. And she gives it to you with no questions asked. She gladdens your heart, makes you laugh, and tells you to stop being so hard on yourself. And she reminds you that even when your baby is 30 years old, motherhood never really stops being about giving.
*Mom’s scheduled to come home from the hospital today, and the girls and I care eager to start pampering HER!
I know EXACTLY how you feel on this one! My Mom was in a bad car accident a number of years ago and it was so difficult to see her so vulnerable. She has also had two bouts of surgery that were pretty serious. Her health is great – no major issues or anything, but it's still hard to see our mothers out of commission, and also to realize that our parents are aging. It's inevitable, but not something we ever want to accept.
I SO hear you Kate (and Kris). I'm a 31 year old daughter, who has an 86 year old father (almost 87) and 74 year old mother (if you know them from mass, most people do NOT think they are those ages…they look SO GOOD and are spry). Most of my friends have GRANDPARENTS those ages, if they are still around (sad thought). But my dad's had to have 2 heart procedures the last 2 years and it was so scary to see him so vulnerable. My mom had a knee done last when I was pregnant, and that was hard to watch too. Between those hospital stays, plus worrying about every cold, cough, and fever they get – cause age makes those so dangerous – I feel fear some days. Many of my friends will have their parents for years, as their kids age, and I wonder how long (and the grandkids) will have my parents. EVERY DAY is a GIFT!! It's so hard to accept aging, time, and the "out of commission" moments. I try and remember God is in ALL those moments and gives us those moments and aging is just a reminder how glorious being with HIM will be when he calls us home…youth, power, and vitality eternal in the Lord….I just hope for ME that
doesn't come soon.
I'm SO with you, and am so grateful your mom will be getting better soon!! AMEN! Now…can she use a meal…or you guys so you can spend more time with your mom?
Hi Kate! I love your powerful posts. You are able to beautifully write how I feel inside about life. Thank you for being so vulnerable and open to your feelings and experiences. I am touched with your words and stories. Thank you!
Oh Kate – this post made me cry.
When I was in high school my mom was canning and a large amount of boiling water spilled down her legs. She was shrieking in pain, sstripped off her shorts, got in an ice cold bath and then had Dad drive her to the ER. As soon as she left I began to sob.
They were just 1st and 2nd degree burns, but something about seeing her in such pain really, really upset me.
Wow Kate that was an awesome account of a loving relationship between a mother and a daughter. It made me cry. Not because I could relate, but because I couldn't. I'm not saying my mom doesn't love me, but the love you describe here and the relationship my mom and I have is lacking something. I know what it is, but she just isn't interested right now.
Anyway, thanks so much for sharing this! You always give me something to cry and think about. :)
HUGS
Glad she's doing better and coming home.
What a beautiful post! I have been thinking about and praying for you and your mom. I've never had to witness my own mother in such a painful state, however at times her mortality creeps into my mind. The sadness that comes in these moments is deep, and I can't imagine how much it will hurt when that time comes. But as violinmama so beautifully said, "God is in ALL of these moments."
Enjoy your time with your mom, and you and your girls have FUN pampering her! I bet she's going to have some of the best manicures and pedicures she's ever had:)
Pamper her for me! Glad she's better, and thanks for yet another beautiful post :)