August 16, 2023.

[innerthoughts_]

3 months ago, today I lost my mom. None of us had seen it coming. But it did.

On August 13 she woke up in the middle of the night complaining of chest pain, trouble breathing, and nausea. She started throwing up, and that's when we noticed how pale she was. She was a type 1 diabetic and ER visits were somewhat normal. I don't want to say normal, but it was. The firefighters and ambulance team knew what to expect whenever they were called to our house. We would usually have to fight with her to let us call 911 but this time it was different. This time she straight up said, "Take me to the emergency room." She wanted us to take her. To drive her there ourselves. So, there we were speeding, running red lights to get her to the emergency room as fast as we could.  At the time, our main focus was getting her to the emergency room, so the red lights were the least of our worries. As soon as we got there, the doctors immediately put her on all these machines. Breathing machine, heart machine, and we were standing there confused, worried, and lost. They ran multiple tests and couldn't find the source. Hours passed, and the doctors told us they couldn't do anything because their tech wasn't as good as the big hospitals, so they had to transfer her there. She spent the next 3 days fighting for her life in the ICU.

As soon as she got to the second hospital, they had to sedate her so that they could run more tests. I remember the night we first took her in, I had to say goodbye to her because my younger sister wanted to stay with her, and the hospital had a strict "one visitor per patient" rule. As I was walking away, she grabbed my hand and begged me to stay. Looking back on it, it's like she knew that was the last time she would be awake. But she couldn't have known that. I keep telling myself she couldn't have known that. In the course of the next 3 days, she was fighting. Fighting to stay. Her organs started to fail, and the doctors had to hook her up to a dialysis machine. At that point, there were too many machines in the room we couldn't even stay in there because the machines were taking up most of the space. Every day we had family and friends come visit but no one could stay long in the room with her because the doctors were running in and out. On August 15 we got news that there was absolutely nothing else they could do and that it would be a good time to start calling family to say their goodbyes.  They had her hooked up to every machine and nothing was working. Her body was still failing. So, everyone came to say their goodbyes and to hang out. Even though we couldn't all be in the room we stayed in the chapel. Singing songs just as she wouldve done. Before I left her that night, I had to do the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I told her "Mommy it's okay. You can rest. We'll be okay." 

We slept outside of the hospital since she was transferred so that we were there in case anything happened. The morning of August 16 around 7 AM we got up to her room and the doctors said everything was looking better than it did the night before. So that was our little victory. Every day she had little victories, so we knew she was fighting. So, the next 4 hours we spent going in and out of her room, family and friends coming to visit, and then 11 am came. The doctors came out and said everything went back downhill. The machines were at its max and everything just went back to the way it was the night before. At that point, I was angry. I was hurt. I felt useless. I couldn't do anything to help her. 11:30 came and I had to make another hard decision. The doctors suggested turning all the machines off and seeing what happens then. I couldn't bring myself to give him an answer. How could I decide whether or not to pull the plug on the woman who brought me into this world? I just couldn't. So, my aunt did.

We were all gathered around her when they unplugged everything. Singing songs hoping and praying, desperate for a miracle. At 12:09 the doctors announced her passing. "I'm sorry. She's gone" At that moment it felt like a piece of me died with her. Since then, nothing's been the same. I haven't been the same. 

 3 long months without her. I don't know where I stand. Every day it's a challenge. Waking up knowing she's not here anymore. My heart hurts. Every day I play a video of her, so I won't forget the sound of her voice. I've heard people say "Grief comes in waves. It leaves just as fast as it came in." That's not the case for me.  Every day for the past 3 months felt like a never-ending wave. Each day the waves just get stronger and stronger. I'm not new to grief, but this time around it feels different.  It hits harder this time around. I want to give up so bad. I want to call it quits and just lay in my bed and cry. But as much as I cry, I know it won't bring her back. I miss her every day. Living every day is just a reminder that I'm doing it without her. When she should be here. Living with me. I owe it all to her.

My heart goes out to everyone on here who's grieving a loved one. I pray for peace and comfort. 

This is my story of grief. 

 

 

[KayC]

9 minutes ago, innerthoughts_ said:

Since then, nothing's been the same. I haven't been the same. 

That is how grief is, it changes us.  It's  journey with a beginning but not an ending...until we're joined with them again.  It does, however, evolve with time.  How you are doing today is not how you will be doing five years from now.

I am so sorry for your loss.

Parent Loss: Continuing Their Song