Yakima Mom

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Mama 3

Sunday

The nurses didn’t think we’d still be here. I was pretty certain myself, but then I was pretty certain that it would be Saturday afternoon, then Saturday night. I’m done making predictions.

I feel a little sorry for myself when I’m here alone, but then want my husband to leave when he comes. There is no sense to my feelings… anger, agitation, the urge to tell people to be quiet, that the nurses shouldn’t chew gum. But none of it really matters because none of it will change anything.

Here are some more new things I’ve learned: As the body shuts down, there is often a fever. My mom had a fever in the hospital, but it was from a bladder infection from the catheter. It’s a different fever now, and though her face feels cool-ish, her temperature is 102.4.

After the body stops producing urine, it usually takes about 24 hours to pass. She had her stroke seven days ago, got one little bottle of saline in the hospital, and yet she is still making urine.

Mom had another comeback this afternoon. Her breathing speeded back up a bit, and her feet, which had been a little cool, got toasty. Now it’s almost 7:00 PM, and her feet are cool and her breathing is getting noisy and irregular again.rose

I can not leave her alone to die. I don’t think she knows I’m here anymore, but I can’t leave her. She lay on the floor of her apartment for two nights before being found. Alone. She won’t have to leave her alone, too.

 

 

 

 

Untitled

There is no title for this post. It is too scattered, too random.

The neighbor “Boy” is playing his guitar in his garage. He’s 17. He thinks his future career is in music.

The chords-especially the long low ones- vibrate through my windows, nearly an acre away.

I don’t mind.

He is 17. His gorgeous blonde hair is dyed black. He has big dreams.

I have pictures of him when he is three or four, digging in the dirt with our boys. Cherry juice smeared across their faces.

Our oldest son is in New Orleans. He’s gone on an “Immersion;” a school-based service trip.

He’ll be gone all week. He leaves for University in just a few, short months.

Our daughter is on the couch, doing homework. She’s disappointed because I won’t take her driving right now.

She’s 15. She already drove 45 minutes today. I say I’m done for the day, I am relaxing now.

She says I can relax while she drives.

Ha.

I am feeling like I have missed something… that I’m not quite the parent that I believed I was.

I am not as good as I thought I was.

I’m sorry. I DID say this was pretty random.

This letting go is so hard.

Thirteen

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow my baby turns thirteen. A teenager.

The last of my three. The most cuddly. The most outwardly loving.

How did it happen? Where did he go?

Such a soft heart. Today, he and his buddies were told they are on the C squad for basketball.
“It’s because I suck,” he told me matter-of-factly. Like it doesn’t matter. But it does.

Who knew being a mom would be this hard?

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