The sandwich generation…take two

I've really thought hard about sharing this. It's actually been saved in a drafts folder since January 2018. While part of my photography journey is to share my family's personal moments - I worry as I share this that I am opening up just a little too much to the digital world.  

Why did I change my mind? Because I know I am not alone. Social media is incredibly guilty of what I view as false realities with a constant slew of positive posts. Don't get me wrong, there are so many things I am incredibly grateful for, and am proud to share, but there are also challenges and struggles that just like everyone else, I face too. 

Here we go.

My mom has dementia, and I can count on one hand how many people truly know the severity. At 72, I am literally watching her slip away each week into the same state that we saw Matt’s mom get to. It was so tough for me to see Angela decline, and now it’s my mom, and yes, it’s a very different experience. Pair this with her life-long neurological struggles (which have put a burden on our relationship for decades…mental illness is no joke), and it’s incredibly hard to watch. I am her daughter, she is my mom…yet, I am one of her caregivers. I am her freaking caregiver, and I am not even 40. Unless you’ve been in my shoes, it’s so frustrating, sad, and painful.

Speaking of shoes, asking her to put them on means I have to remind her at least five times. Driving…done. Managing finances…nope. Cooking for herself…it doesn’t happen. Personal hygiene or simple house chores…she has to be directed over and over again. Knowing the year, month, day, season, someone’s birthday, holiday, time, or even who is leading our country…she couldn’t tell you.

Yet, she's still my mom and I love her. However, there are so many things I used to take for granted that I am coming to realize I may never get back. I miss her kind heart, the things she would do for her grandchildren, her penmanship, her corny humor, her ability to fill wardrobes with the best brands I can’t even keep straight. She has such a good eye. Recently, I took her with me to go furniture shopping, and she knew exactly what fabric would look good for a sofa I had picked out. She went meandering around the store – to come back with a pillow in the exact same fabric the interior designer pulled. I miss our shopping trips, dinner dates, her phone calls with the most random advice, like making sure the kids had socks on their feet in the dead of summer, and of course our trips. She was the first to take me to Hawaii nearly 20 years ago, and I can only hope I can do the same for my kids. Yet, what kills me is if we do any of these things now, I have to initiate or be the caretaker – not the daughter who is just yearning for her mom to, well…be a mom, and take care of me. I miss her asking about my day, my job, our family’s adventures…really anything and everything. I love the jewelry she’s given me year after year that I coined “mom jewelry” if someone asked where I found it. If you would have told me five or even three years ago that this was all coming to an end, I wouldn’t have believed you. The reality is that it slowly is.    

I can’t change it. I can’t change the progression. I can only live in the moment and take even the smallest normal things she does as a win. Does it still hurt? 110%. Do I cry nearly every time I leave her? Yes, like a baby. Are there times, I wish I could avoid seeing her completely, because it’s so painful to watch? Yes. However, I can share my story with others that have yet to experience this painful journey with their loved ones - or relate to those who have.

Our days are so focused on one thing to the next. We are over scheduled, over committed, and being busy is the new norm. Anxiety and stress is consuming our lives - making it hard to enjoy the simplest things. Yet, finding the time to connect with those that mean the most to you is so important. Each day is a gift. You truly don’t know if it’s your last. Pick up the phone, write a card, do something…do anything with them. I can assure you, when it’s gone…you will miss it. Say no to the things that really don’t matter to you, and yes to those that do. I promise, you won’t regret it.

And help. Ask for the help. There is no way I could do this alone. I have no idea how Matt managed as an only child without family support. From my stepdad who is trying his hardest to keep her at home, to my brother and his family who took care of her in his home for a period of time, to my aunt and uncle and their family who have stepped in to just be there…and making the best out of it. From cleaning to taking her to eat, to seeing that she got a trip to the beach – it’s noticed and appreciated. And of course, to my stepsister and stepbrother who is doing everything they can to take care of their dad. We have come together, differences and priorities aside, to do the best we possibly can for the two of them. Has it come with frustration? Yup. Do we have stories to tell? So many. Can my mom and stepdad be viewed as incredibly stubborn? Absolutely, but we are a team helping to give them the best quality life possible.

Watching Matt's mom become 100% non-verbal followed by her death was so painful. Watching anyone die is an awful experience, and it tears at my heart to think this is where my mom could be in just a few years. If anything, I am so grateful, that I took pictures. I took the pictures…and printed them. One day, I will no longer be able to do this, and even though our relationship has had so many struggles, it makes me incredibly sad that this phase in my life will come to an end. My mom loves the prints I give her, because, those send her back to happy times that I truly hope trigger a memory in her mind.  

So as Matt has said, hug your parents - you never know when those experiences and memories might be the last.  

xoxo, 
Jen