Bittersweet Slowdown Season

1 Thessalonians 5:11, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” (NIV)

This is so hard to write. Taking care of my Mom is a glorious gift of time with her. But the truth is it is also a thankless job in so many ways. All the little efforts I put in to making her more safe and comfortable go unnoticed. She is at the season of life where she is so like a newborn. Her discomfort in the moment consumes her mind. Although she doesn’t cry out she does complain and fuss about whatever is bothering her. Ouch seems to be her favorite word. Whether it is too cold or too hot during showering is her focus rather than the towels at the ready to dry her quickly or the heater to keep her from getting a chill. Gratitude diminishes with dementia. This is a truth that screams at me that so much of my Mom is no longer here. 

The similarities between this phase and the newborn phase have glaring contrasts. Newborns will speed toward independence while Mom is slipping into more helplessness with each passing day. Newborns interact and respond a little more as they grow and learn while dementia silences conversations with our loved ones. The hope of a future is the most glaring contrast between the start of our lives and the end of our lives. 

So often in my journey raising four kids, teaching special ed and just being a grown up, I longed for time to just stay home in my jammies. Those days were so rare throughout life. My Mom was the same. She had endless energy and perpetually busy hands. Even a year ago Mom walked her dog three times a day. Now I am trying to spend more time sitting with Mom and just being idle to be with her. The conversations are routine as we converse about the dog and how she is feeling. Our greatest interaction is when someone walks by the park and she narrates what is happening out the window. This spark of interest makes me so happy. Mom still has her sense of humor and I still goof with her so she will respond. But most of our conversations don’t include shared memories since our memories are really my memories now. Please don’t interpret this as complaining. I wouldn’t change the gift of this time with my Mom for the world. But the truth is it can be overwhelmingly lonely, exhausting and heartbreaking as well as joyful and filled with love. I find myself jealous of my dog. Mom tells her over and over how much she loves her and that she is the prettiest dog there is. I don’t quite understand why it is easier to talk to the dog than me but I know it is not Mom but dementia that keeps her focus on our four legged girl. 

The greatest gift you can give a caregiver is the gift of a drop in. Just stop by and visit for a few minutes.  I am here at home with my best friend but I would love to visit with you my family, friends and community. I will have the coffee hot and snacks in the fridge. You can use a slow down break from the busyness of life and Mom and I would enjoy spending time with you. 

In Him,
Joyful
2-4-19