I didn't let it sink in enough.
I'm angry at myself for that. I wish I had listened and known and felt the weight of that. I wish I had let it root deeper in my soul.
My mom gave herself completely to me. I had the best education, the most amazing travels, the tastiest birthday cakes. I knew when I messed up but I always also knew I was loved.
Then... dementia.
Dementia is a thief and a liar and a pretty serious asshole.
Right as I became a mother my own began to slip away.
I was 27 when I knew something was really wrong... most clearly when she flew back to her home hours before I gave birth to my first baby, missing it.
I was 30 when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, after years of long distance concern, hours upon hours of testing and countless appointments with the top neurologists of the state.
I was 27 when I knew something was really wrong... most clearly when she flew back to her home hours before I gave birth to my first baby, missing it.
I was 30 when she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, after years of long distance concern, hours upon hours of testing and countless appointments with the top neurologists of the state.
I was 32 (last Wednesday) when my mom forgot my birthday completely for the first time. The past few years have been shaky and she has called late or sent gifts very early but this year was the first time in my life I didn't hear the words slip from her lips, I fear I never will again.
One of her dearest friends told her it was my birthday (bless those friends) and still she wasn't able to hold that memory in her brain long enough for it to mean anything. She has a huge clock in her house that states the month and day but seeing August 10th didn't bring anything up for her, it didn't remind her of that summer day she almost died having me or the 31 other August 10ths we've had eating cake for breakfast.
It's just one more way I've lost my mom.
As painful as the death of my birthday is it's the death of who I am to her that hurts most. Being a 66 year old woman with dementia is frustrating and unfair. Since her brain can't process that logically anymore and there is shame and pain and so many other things wrapped up in it, her deteriorating brain has made me the bad guy. Nurses and professionals tell me it's normal. They tell me that telling friends that it is my fault and that she doesn't have dementia and lives in a prison is normal. That it's a way to protect herself from reality. A reality her brain can't process anymore.
She doesn't lie to hurt, she doesn't lie, she tells a story that makes sense to her. Why would she move if it wasn't for me? Her mind can't identify that it can't function... it's the painful reality of this disease. She talks about wanting to go home but I know what she really wants is to go back to BEFORE. She has her credit card and a phone and internet but has lost the ability to put it all together. If she was able to be on her own she would have bought a ticket and moved.
Oh, how I wish she had that capacity still. If she did, she wouldn't forget my birthday, or that I dropped her off at home two hours ago, or that we saw each other three times last week.
Instead, her brain tells her other things; that she hasn't seen me in months, that I am away on a 6 week vacation (like most youth ministers with two kids under 5 take), that I have told her horrible things about staying here till she dies, things that my mom would never believe but things that this mom has made her reality.
The moments of pain and sadness are quick and fleeting for her, often brought about by interactions with people from her past who don't understand completely, that don't yet know how to redirect her. Moments later she is off on a walk or out shopping with her friends or participating in some crazy game downstairs... but me... I don't forget it.
I don't forget how angry she was with me for that minute.
I don't forget that there are people all over the place who think I've done a horrible thing to my mother when what I've done is keep her safe, love her, protect her, and give everything I have. They don't see where she lives. They don't see that down the hall are practicing lawyers and researchers getting up each day and going to work. That daily there is an outing and activity, all of which she joyfully participates in. That I've done everything in my power to give her as much independence as possible. That we talked about all this before she progressed and it is what she wanted.
I don't forget that she almost died giving birth to me.
That she told me every night that she loved me to the moon and back.
That my life is what it is because of her.
That she told me every night that she loved me to the moon and back.
That my life is what it is because of her.
I don't forget that no matter how much she forgets... I can remember for the both of us.
So a few days after my birthday I took mom and AG on a girls shopping trip... because if she could remember, I am sure this is what we would have done. She didn't know it was my way of celebrating my birthday with her, and it's okay that she didn't, because I did.
