As one might have guessed, I haven't written here because I have been so occupied doing what I intended to write about: my experience as a caregiver for my mother.
This has been the hardest thing I have ever done...and I have done many hard things. First of all, it is devastating to watch someone I love and admire deteriorate into a temperamental creature incapable of ordinary reason or sound judgement. I am used to bringing Mom my troubles and receiving spiritual insight, encouragement and solutions. I can't do that, any more. She looks like my mom; she sounds like my mom; but, Mom is not available. My all-wise mother is hidden somewhere in this fuzzy, frail body that demands every bit of wisdom, patience and creative resource I can muster; and yet refuses to receive it, most of the time. She keeps apologizing for being a burden; then adds to it by some outrageous assertion of independence that just causes trouble.
She continues to decline, but also continues to deny her need for help. This puts me into an awkward, ongoing argument to keep her safe and comfortable. So, the challenge to avoid contention is my personal battle. I have learned to avoid raising my voice. Period. Yes, that took a great deal of practice. Most days, I can say I have conquered that. However, every once in awhile, she surprises me so dramatically, I am not as good at controlling my response as usual. Again, I cannot answer with reason. She doesn't get reason. I cannot answer with a show of authority. She will fight me. Sometimes I can answer with tears, which will get her attention, but not necessarily convince her of anything. I depend on God to help me. If I remember to silently offer up a prayer, He will help me stay calm, stay kind, and say or do the right thing. This takes a lot of energy.
Energy is the most noticeable of my personal needs: and it is usually spent pretty quickly. I don't have much, anyway. That's who I am. However, I testify that when I am prayerful, and doing my best, Heavenly Father compensates. Somehow, I get through another crises, another surprise, another day. I may not have anything left to give when I get home, again. But I am blessed with a saintly husband who does his best to understand, to listen, and to restore my depleted bucket. My children are also good listeners, and allow me to vent regularly. I don't know what I would do without them. Our daughter has taken on some of my tasks, such as cleaning Mom's house, and taking her out once a week so I can have a break. This literally "saves" me.
I can often see the humor in a situation, and that helps, too. Mother contradicts herself a lot. She forgets what she said, what she wanted, what she used to like. She tries to explain lapses that she simply can't deny, and sometimes makes up the most creative excuses. Once in awhile, if it doesn't matter much, I can quote her to herself and turn the situation into a giggle for us both.
It would help if I knew how long I would be required to do this. I don't. That is part of the challenge. I have to trust that God will know when I can't go on, any more. I am learning things I would never have learned in any other way. I am becoming more that I could possibly have become from any other experience. And, I have come to a peace with this that I didn't think was possible. I have felt the love and support of the Savior. He carries me. I am happy. And that makes this a good thing.
