What I Learned From Taking Care of My Mom, Part 1
Lessons for life
I recently came across a post that has really stuck with me: We pray to God to change our situation, but God put us in the situation to be changed. I see the years I spent caring for my mom in that light. Some of you may remember from past posts that my mother lived with my family for the last thirteen years of her life. Since she passed in 2021, I’ve had time to reflect, and I can say with certainty that I came out of the situation much different than when I started.
Interestingly, many of my friends are either on the cusp of or already going through similar situations with their moms, so I talk about this often. It’s a trying time for most, so I’m happy to listen and serve as a sounding board. Occasionally, I offer advice about incontinence supplies and caregiving woes, but otherwise, I try not to be too overbearing with my suggestions.
That’s a tall order for me because I emerged from those 13 years as a changed person, brimming with new insights, changed perspectives, and lessons learned. This post is part 1, the life lessons that I gleaned. (Part 2 will be all of the health wisdom that I acquired.) I sincerely hope this may help those still in the trenches or about to be.
Create a generational mindset early
My mom had gotten to the point in her life where living alone was too difficult. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the resources for assisted living, so moving to California to live with my family was the only viable solution. In hindsight, I wish we had been thinking about and planning for her to live with us much earlier in life…it would have been a much more natural progression and much less of a struggle for us all.
My neighbor, who is in her early 80s, is in a similar situation. She recently told me that she was starting to think she would sell her house in a couple of years to buy a generational home with her daughter. I told her I thought it was a great plan and that it was wise of her to start shifting her mindset now.
Likewise, I’m trying to prepare myself and shift my mindset to the fact that we will most likely need to live with our son somewhere far down the road. I’ll give him a couple of decades to get accustomed to that idea.
The end of life mirrors the beginning
The natural age-related death of a close friend several years prior first led me to understand the circle of life, but taking care of my mom all those years indeed drove the point home. We start life as helpless babies entirely dependent on our family, and when life comes full circle, that is where we end up.
Our son, Alessio, was nine months old when my mom moved in. As the years went by, the stages I saw Alessio go through as he progressed from infant to toddler to child, I saw my mom go through in reverse. It was such an eye-opener—a marvel to witness, actually. He was progressing, and inversely, she was regressing.
In my estimation, aging would be much better for everyone if we viewed the end of life as we did the beginning.
Just when you think you have it solved, it changes
Speaking of the early stages of life… as a new mom, I quickly learned one unwavering truth: just when you think you’ve got the schedule down or the issue solved, it all changes. Definitely by the month, sometimes by the week, or even by the day.
I experienced the exact same thing with my mom. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise as she was his mirror in reverse, but that didn’t dawn on me until many frustrating years later. If the lightbulb had gone off sooner, I might have been more relaxed and taken the bumps in the road more gracefully.
You can’t will things for people
I’ve written extensively about my mom’s lifelong weight issues. In a nutshell, when she moved in with us, she was carrying almost 250 pounds on a 5’3” frame. I took control of her food, and within a year and a half, she had lost nearly 80 pounds. She was weaned off the bag of meds that she had brought with her, and she was moving around much better. I filled her closet with pretty new clothes, and people showered her with compliments. Her doctor was ecstatic... I thought for sure all this newfound positivity would encourage her to stay on track.
Nope. Over time, as she convinced people to sneak her treats, her will to move waned, and slowly, the pounds piled back on. Eventually, I came to the realization that I couldn’t will my mom to make her health a priority. It was my priority, but not hers.
That was just one of many things. I tried to get her interested in puzzles, mind games, helping me cook or fold clothes, and even rug hooking, which she used to love to do. Nothing interested her long enough. Ultimately, it was fruitless to try to will it for her.
Know when to push and when to let go
In the first eight years or so, I overhauled her diet and pushed her through a significant weight loss, nursed her through several surgeries and rehabs, took her to countless physical therapy sessions, set her up with volunteering at church, and arranged weekly excursions with a neighbor, among many other activities.
Although the tipping point was gradual, it indeed happened. Despite my best efforts, she lost interest in the outings, belligerently fought against rehab and moving in general, and didn’t care much for lunchtime salads or any healthy foods. By the time she was in her early nineties, I realized I needed to stop pushing, and I did.
Instead, she sat in her wheelchair on our porch and peacefully watched the world go by. When even that became too taxing, she took to her bed and watched the Food Network all day. I served hot dogs upon request and pudding for breakfast. Yes. I had let go.
Roll with it
Cognitive issues can sometimes complicate the end stages of life. My mom often asked the same questions over and over, and I didn’t stop her; I just gave her the same answer over and over. Nearly every day, she told me how much she didn’t like California and how much she wanted to go back home. Although I wanted to say, “You’re welcome to leave anytime!” I just shrugged, nodded, and muttered, “I know.”
She was comfortable wearing the same stained, threadbare top day in and day out…and I let her. I learned at a certain point that it was most harmonious to meet her where she was and roll with it.
Turn tears into laughter
The trials and tribulations of aged and infirmed people can be frustrating. Trust me, I went through my fair share of tears. But as Kurt Vonnegut said, “Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I prefer to laugh since there is less cleaning up afterward.”
And so, after a few ungraceful trials, I, too, found laughing preferable to crying.
Faith is a comforting cornerstone
My mom was a fairly devout Catholic. All my life, she consistently attended Mass, kept drawers full of prayer booklets and holy cards, and owned a bas-relief of Mother Mary that she had treasured for over 60 years. As her health declined, her faith was a steady comfort for her. We made sure beloved Mary was in her line of sight from the bed, loaded up her nightstand with liturgical keepsakes, and kept her rosary nearby.
Even after she was bedridden, the ritual of watching Mass every Sunday morning brought her great comfort, calm, and consolation.
They see dead people
As she continued to decline, my mom started to entertain callers that we couldn’t see. She swore that her cousin came to visit, my dad popped in, a couple of little girls and even a few people she didn’t recognize, all stopped by. Our neighbor, who is a surgeon, is convinced these are hallucinations; my husband and I are not so sure. These occurrences were so real to her that she was worried about her cousin not having a place to stay and asked if he could spend the night with us. Naturally, I said, “Yes, don’t worry; he’s welcome.”
Was it all in her mind? Honestly, I don’t know. Could her family have been visiting her to help her transition? Possibly. What mattered most was that it was very real to her, so we honored her, and it became real for us.
Quality of life
Once my mom was bedridden, she had a particularly long, protracted two-year slide to the finish. When people pass naturally, the decline is often more of a rollercoaster than a steady downhill slope, so I strove not to overreact to every rise or fall. From about her early nineties onward, my focus shifted from trying to push her to be her best to simply making her comfortable, minimizing stress and strife to maintain a quality of life.
Facilities may trade one problem for another.
I have to admit there were several instances in which I started thinking, “Well, maybe it really is better if she goes into a home…maybe there is some way we can make it work.” But then I remembered the handful of times that my mom was in a transition facility after surgery. Although the break was nice initially, I quickly understood that I needed to be there at least once daily to oversee her care and calm her fears.
Soon, I found myself ping-ponging between work, home, and the facility. It wasn’t as carefree as I had hoped. I realized that I was trading one problem for another, and in my heart of hearts, I knew it would spell her early demise.
The gift of a peaceful end
I have written about this in “The Gift of Peace.” There is tremendous solace in giving your parent, or anyone else, a peaceful end. My husband remembers his mom’s passing with great sadness; even though she had a terminal illness and a DNR, her caregivers called 911 when she went into cardiac arrest. Instead of being in her home, her last hours were spent under harsh fluorescent lights, hooked up to machines with people beating on her chest. Awful.
My mom passed during the lockdowns when most people were kept from their elderly family members. But thankfully, instead of alone in an over-lit, noisy facility, she had a peaceful passing in her room illuminated by the morning sun, in the quiet…as it should be. As she deserved.
Patience, respect, compassion
Ultimately, the best tools for dealing with elderly people are within ourselves. Admittedly, it wasn’t always easy, and I didn’t always respond as well as I would hope. Nevertheless, I constantly reminded myself of how hard it must have been for my mom to be weak and vulnerable and how much she deserved to be treated with respect and compassion.
Caring for a loved one in their final years teaches us so much about living well and aging great… challenging as it was, both my husband and I agree we would do it again in a heartbeat. It was the right thing to do. I’m grateful for the opportunity to care for my mom and the changes it made in me.
Thank you Camy! I’m sending this to my daughters!