Vicky7784

Yes, it seems we are all survivors of Mother's Day. I was such an emotional wreck that I couldn't bring myself to go to the cemetary. My family would have gone along and I just didn't want them to see me lose it as I stood over her grave. It was so difficult seeing all the commercials on TV for gift suggestions. I couldn't even look at a Hallmark store without tearing up. My mother loved mushy cards. She'd save them and reread them over and over. I haven't been able to go through that particular drawer yet and have to decide what to do with all those cards (my mother lived with us so I pass by her bedroom on a daily basis and it still shakes me up after 5 mos.). I kept thinking that I would never buy another Mother's Day card, unless my daughters ever marry and have kids but it's still not the same as giving your mother a card. I'm not sure what's happening to me. I was so much better in February-March. Now I feel like I'm back to the beginning with my grief. I'm doing that thing again where I think "Wait til Mom hears about that", then suddenly remember that she's gone. There will be no more chats, no more sharing of stories, no more advice giving. I'm 60 years old and I feel exactly as you do--I just want my "mommy" back. I have a great family and a wonderful husband but your mother is in a category all by herself and you're right--no one can take her place! That leaves a hole in my heart. Her birthday was in April and then it was Mother's Day so I hope for some reprieve from these kinds of triggers. My birthday is in August, however--yet another sad day but hopefully I'll feel a bit stronger by then. Thanks for sharing, Cubby.

Thanks, Chai, Yes, it was a peaceful end to my mother's long life. The hospice setting was wonderful. We have a very small family since both my husband and I are only children but everyone my mother loved was in that room with her--my husband, our two daughters, and myself. Now I must try to look beyond the gruesome thoughts that have plagued me about the decisions I had to make regarding her and the sheer horror of watching her leave me. You're right--those thoughts are toxic and keep me from thinking about all the beautiful memories I have. With Mother's Day coming, I'm working very hard to stop reliving the painful memories and start thinking about the happy times we had together. She would never want me to do this to myself as she was all about loving and being happy. Thanks for your encouraging words!

Kath, Your experiences with your grandmother do sound very similar to my mother's. The year before she died, I tried so hard to get her to fight--eat more, talk more, think more. The dementia was subtle at first and easily explained away as being related to the aphasia she had from her stroke. My mother had been extremely witty and mentally sharp until she had the stroke so I couldn't believe she would have dementia or that she was beginning to die. I always told myself that there were many more people living into their 100's and so would my mother. I'm slowly beginning to accept that she really had been dying for several months before the dementia took away her ability to swallow and forced me to make that unwelcome decision about a feeding tube. Sometimes I feel that my grieving process has me working backwards from the day of her death to many months before then as I try to make sense of it all. I guess I wasn't willing to see what was happening during that time but now I must process it in order to go on. At any rate, thanks for your words of support.

Mary Linda, Thanks for your kind words. "Hauntings"--that perfectly describes what's been happening to me. On one hand, I'm grieving the loss of her companionship and guidance. She was my biggest cheerleader and now she's gone. But then added to that, has been the nagging sense that I shoved her through death's door. I read the article Marty suggested and it really did help, which surprised me. I'm hoping I can put those horrible thoughts to rest now and concentrate on moving through the grief of losing my dearest friend.

Oh, Marty, I read the entire article you cited and it was just what I needed! Although I'm typing away with tears falling, I'm crying because I finally have a clear understanding of what the doctor and hospice workers were trying to explain to me. Maybe I was too distraught at the time to really hear them. All I had come away with then was that my mother was too weak to continue to live, so I had to pull the proverbial plug and let her die from renal failure due to lack of hydration. I guess what added to my anguish was that a week before she died in hospice, while still in hospital, she had a very coherent and nice conversation with my daughter. The next day they discovered she had lost the ability to swallow and I was immediately confronted by the doctor to decide whether or not to prolong her life via a feeding tube. My head was spinning. Although she had begun to regress again and seemed confused, I kept reverting back to that moment of normalcy as I struggled to make a decision. I wish someone had given me this article then. It all happened so quickly, I didn't have time to process it all. Within days, I watched her body slowly shut down and all I could think was that I was causing this to happen. This article gave me some peace and allowed me to entertain the idea that she really was truly at life's end when all this happened and I just helped find a way to make it as painless as possible for her. I hope I can continue on this more positive note as I move through my grief. Thank you so much!

I'm new to the discussion group but glad I found it. My mother died last December at the age of 94. I have been tortured by thoughts that I didn't do enough to prolong her life. My mother and I were extremely close as my father died when I was 7 and I had no siblings. For the past 20 years, she had lived with my husband and I and our two daughters. She was the girls' caregiver while I worked. My mother was my rock and so devoted to me and my family. I admit I took all that for granted. She moved across country with us 4 yrs. ago when we relocated to a warmer climate. I didn't feel too guilty about uprooting her because all her siblings were gone and our small family was all that she had. Over the past few years she broke her hip, then her tibia, and her pelvis. Each time, she fought her way through in-patient rehab, which she hated. She was always so strong! Then, in January 08, she had a stroke. I expected her to fight her way back. She didn't have any paralysis but she had expressive aphasia. The words were clear but often nonsensical or she couldn't retrieve our names. Her glaucoma also worsened after the stroke. Nevertheless, I expected her to regain most of the skills she had lost so I made sure she had lots of speech therapy. I ignored the signs that she was slipping cognitively. I attributed the memory issues and spells of confusion to the aphasia or her failing eyesight. She started losing weight which she could ill afford. Her appetite waned and I would argue with her for not eating. I felt she was giving up and it made me angry because that's not what my mother ever did despite all her other challenges. For the first time, she began to repeatedly say things like "94 is too old". She withdrew somewhat--seldom speaking at the dinner table and just sitting in her room staring into space, not even watching TV. She was down to 85 lbs. Her geriatric doctor told me her lack of appetite was related to the dementia brought on by the stroke. The term "dementia" almost brought me to my knees. I refused to believe it. As the months went on, my mother had several minor falls due to poor balance even with the use of a walker. She no longer could prepare food for herself, which I blamed on her eyesight. Finally, in September I had to place her in a group home. She went reluctantly. It broke my heart but the caregiver there was wonderful. In October, she had another fall there and fractured her pelvis again. More rehab, then back to the group home. In early Dec., she appeared to have caught a cold. The next morning, her caregiver called to say my mother was too sick to even stand up so she called an ambulance. While in the hospital, the doctors diagnosed her with pneumonia and a UTI. She seemed to drift in and out of reality, often just calling out "pleeease" over and over. Two days later, they discovered she had lost the ability to swallow, most likely due to the dementia, which they were now calling alzheimers and/or a possible additional stroke. This is where my guilt trip began. The doctor in charge told me that it was "her time" to go. He said she was clearly a case of "failure to thrive" based upon her already skeletal looks and lack of coherence. I'm sure she was down to 75 lbs. He said the only option would be a feeding tube but even with that, aspiration pneumonia is common. He was adamant that the best course would be to place her in hospice and let nature take its course. A rep from hospice also spoke at length with me and urged me not to force my mother to live in such a deplorable physical condition . I was in a total fog. Being the only child, I was faced with this horrible decision. Everyone close to me agreed that I should let her die a peaceful death rather than hook her up to a feeding tube. She was too far gone for me to discuss it with her. She seemed so fearful and confused that I didn't want to upset her by asking such questions. So, reluctantly, I let them place her in hospice where she slowly died in less than a week. The morphine kept her painfree and my family and I were there with her till the very last breath. She slept around the clock that whole time until she died. The cause of death was listed as aspiration pneumonia but I'm plagued by the thought that she really died of kidney shutdown because she wasn't given a feeding tube. Therein lies my deepest fear. Did I kill her? Maybe she would have wanted to live longer. My husband gave me lots of examples of things she had said in the past indicating that she'd never want to linger so incapacitated but I'm not sure. I think about the Terry Shiavo case and think this is the same thing. Who was I to make such a decision for her??? In addition to the sometimes overwhelming grief I feel from losing my mother, the guilt over her manner of death consumes me at times. So, after this long description of my experiences, the bottom line is that I understand your questioning what you could have, should have done. I'm so mired in this that I don't feel I can offer any words of wisdom to help you other than for you to know that you're not the only one grappling with these issues.