We encounter so many people on our journey through life. We meet new friends, we fall in love, we fall out of love, we fall out of friendship. Family is the one thing I think we should always be able to count on. In particular, we can count on our mothers. Our mothers brought us into the world, they protected us, they took care of us when we were sick and held us when we cried. As we get older, relationships with our mothers change. Some of us are lucky to still have a mother. (My heart goes out to those of you who lost your mothers.)
And sometimes instead of them always taking care of us, a time comes where it's our turn for us to take care of them. I experienced this recently. For the first time, my mother needed me to take care of her. After having emergency surgery back in December, I was forced to put myself into a position that was not only extremely difficult, but almost felt unnatural to me. Seeing my mom lying in a hospital bed in pain, in fear, and in serious need of me to step up and be there for her, was harder than I ever imagined. To hold her hand while the nurses changed her dressings and looked at her stitches and to hold her hand while she cried because she was scared was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But this is the circle of life. They take care of you and then you have to take care of them.
That brings me to my current blog, while I take the place of my mom in her big bed in the home I grew up in, and she lies in a hospital bed after having a difficult surgery. I really am not a fan of hospitals. No one likes hospitals. They hold some kind of lingering sadness within them, the eyes of almost everyone you pass glazed over with stress and fear. And then you pass those lit up with the happiness of new life being brought into the world. It's this strange place where life begins, life struggles and life ends. A part of me knew that my mom would be okay but sitting in that waiting room, I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with uneasiness. Trying to occupy your time and your mind while waiting to hear that the most important person in your world is safe is one of the most stressful things to have to go through. After I finally saw her and knew she was safe, I grabbed her hand and she squeezed mine knowing it was me without ever opening her eyes. She couldn't talk to me; she could only lie there in pain and try and sleep. Usually my mom's snoring problem is one thing about her that drives me absolutely nuts. But at that time, there was nothing recognizable about my mom. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a defined wrinkle on her forehead, which resulted from her straining in pain, her skin pale and sweaty, a tube come from her nose... not even a glimmer of her cheerful spirit and her quirky sense of humor. Listening to her snore brought me this overwhelming sense of comfort because it was the only normal thing about her at that time.
No one wants to see those they love in pain. No one wants to see them sick, weak and needy. As a very emotional person, I never thought I'd handle it as well as I have. I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline or if it's just because I'm stronger than I think I am, but suddenly having this switch in roles (me as the caretaker instead of the one being taken care of) was easier than I thought it would be. I knew that my mom needed me to be strong for her, as she was for my brother and I for so many years, and unconsciously, I just did it. Even during the loneliest, toughest moments, I managed to keep my tears contained. I think I can thank my wonderful mother for this.
She is doing as well as can be expected after an extensive surgery. And I know that this won't slow her down. But if it does, I'll be there ready to hold her hand again.
Lead with your heart. I truly believe it will never steer you in the wrong direction.
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