03 August 2014

My Mom

I was 18 in this picture.  Long before my Mom's accident.  I have a lot of guilt over what happened with my Mom.  I had just gone back to work after having my son, and my husband and I had worked out that he'd work days, and I would work nights, except on weekends, where I would work mornings when needed, but I'd only work 6 hours tops, so that we didn't have to leave our son with a sitter, and my husband would bring my son to me halfway through my shift for me to nurse him.  Well, on October 25, 2004 I was at work, without a pump, or a baby, and when my husband called me to tell me that the baby was hungry we realized that my Mom had our 2nd car seat and my husband had no way to bring our son to me.  I had no way to pump, and I would have leaked like crazy if I didn't either nurse or pump, although we did have frozen milk in the fridge for James.

So I called my Mom, and I asked her if she could bring the car seat to my husband so that Michel could bring James to me to nurse.  It was about 9ish and she said sure.  Michael showed up not 30 min later, we only live about 15-20 min from my Mom, and work.  I nursed the baby and then walked them out to their car before I went back to work and I can remember vividly the car accident on Industry Road.  There were so many flashing lights, and a semi truck and everyone, the cashiers and baggers, everyone was captivated by it.  We saw the helicopter come in to flight lift the wounded, and I remember I made a comment that obviously it was really bad if they were flight lifting rather than just using an ambulance.  I said a quick prayer for the family and the person affected by this accident and shooed everyone back inside to get back to work.

Little did I know that this would change my life in so many ways.

I usually got off a little after midnight.  I got the call, sometime as I was wrapping things up in the office.  Bill called me and said Mom had been in a very serious accident, and that they weren't sure if she'd make it.  It was really bad.  At that moment I realized I'd prayed for myself.  I just knew that accident was my Mom. I asked Bill where the accident had happened, and he said somewhere on the way home.  I told him I saw the aftermath.  I was so scared and I kind of just lost it.  Thank God Chris knew how to finish everything in the office because I'm not sure I would have been able to finish.  I called Michael to come get me, I knew I'd not be able to drive home, and then I called my sister and my best friend Amanda.

I don't remember much else.  I knew I wanted to rush over there immediately but Bill told me not to.  I went early the next morning though, and my Mom, she was, I'd never seen her so frail looking.  I prayed, so hard those next few weeks.  My work, God Bless them gave me more time off, and I took another month off waiting for my Mom to heal.  It was touch and go for the first few weeks, and we learned that she could no longer feel her legs.  Her spinal cord was swollen, and she was paralyzed.

My Mom had forgotten that she had taken her sleeping pills.  She only wanted to help her grandchild and I feel so guilty about it, even now.  If I'd had a back up plan then I'd never have had to call her to go to my house, and the accident would not have happened.

I then watched my Mom fade away over the next ten years.  It was hard, and I miss her every day now.  My Mom was my best friend.  She had so much hope right after the accident, that maybe she'd be able to walk, at least with assistance, but as the years went on she lost hope, and with the loss of hope she lost her motivation to stay healthy.  In the past five years especially she was in and out of the hospital a lot, there were several close calls, and honestly, I thought that's what this last time would have been also, but it wasn't.  And as much as I miss my Mommy, it was time.  She was such an amazing Mom and friend.  She always supported me, even when she maybe didn't agree or understand and she never judged me.  I don't think I could have asked for a better Mom.

I love you Mom.