About this Blog
Momfidence! cheers on commonsense parenting and sighs at the rest. How to worry less, wing it more. A.k.a. parenting by the seat of my mid-rise mom jeans.
About Paula Spencer
I'm the author of Momfidence! An Oreo Never Killed Anybody and Other Secrets of Happier Parenting, and a mom of four in Chapel Hill, North Carolina (where you cannot even buy Oreos at the two groceries nearest to my home).
A rare foto in which all six Spencers face the camera! by Charles Harris
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About MY MomDecember 18, 2007
October 2007
Last week
When my first child was born, my mom and dad sped 12 hours south from Michigan to meet him, their first grandchild (of an eventual 14 over the next 12 years). Mom stayed with us for three full weeks, helping out and showing me the ropes. I was as panicked and inept as any new mom, and so on the day she returned home, I stood in the driveway waving and crying harder than baby Henry. Ringing in my ears, though, was her parting endorsement: "You'll be fine. You're a good mom!"
Me?! If she said so, it must be true, because she didn't hand out praise lightly. Hooray! I could do it! Mothers know best, of course. My mom died yesterday. She was 81. Hence my long silence on this page. It was incredibly unexpected. One day she was enjoying Thanksgiving turkey, and two days later she was rushed to ER, having collapsed from renal failure due -- they discovered while doing exploratory surgery to find the cause of the kidney blockage -- to widespread, aggressive metastatic urothelial cancer, already incurable. That diagnosis unfolded across an endless, agonizing week in the hospital, one of those weeks where you have ALL the hard conversations (informing sibs, medical power of attorney, which treatments and tests, how long does she have, DNR, when to stop treatments and tests because they've become futile, where and where for hospice...). From the neck up, she was unchanged. Doctors kissed her, nurses adored her, she had a standing joke about dates with the burly fellow who transported her to tests and the OR. She still ordered us around (a little). On the day she signed herself into home hospice, her last night in the hospital, she beat her three daughters in two games of Scrabble. She discussed funeral plans, distributed goods, worried about Dad. They've been married 57 years. They told us she had maybe a week. She had 11 days. All five of us adult children, who all live in different states, stayed with her. When, after a week, she appeared to be rallying, some of us went home to see our families for a day or two. I came home for the first time since the saga began, decorated a Christmas tree with my daughters, and the next day flew for a quick business trip to California, having already had no choice but to leave in the lurch kajeet, a terrific cellphone service designed for preteens and teens with all the management tools skeptical parents need. (I was to do a holiday spokesperson tour for them, beginning the day after everything went south.) Two days later, I got the call from my sister urging me to come back. I was stymied for a day by "the worst storm in a decade" dumping 12-18 inches on Detroit. (You know it's bad when the Weather Chanel sends Jim Cantore to report from the next town over.) I got on a redeye that night (thanks to a speedy Northwest AIrlines hotline clerk who got me the last seat on a flight that a rep had screwed up earlier, accidentally voiding my reservation). She died hours after I got there. Ironically, my business trip was for an exciting new website I'm connected with called Caring.com. It's all about -- yes -- caring for your aging parents. This month, I've lived through practically every content section on the site (except maybe diabetes). With funeral, etc, and then oh yes, the holiday (cards? gifts? well, at least we have a tree), I may not get back into posting groove for a bit, So meanwhile please click over to Caring.com -- even if your parents are perfectly healthy. In fact, that's the best time. Just as in parenting, sometimes you need to have help lined up ahead of time. The info on the site may be the greatest gift you can give them, your siblings, and yourself. Saw a rainbow this afternoon. You'll be fine. You were a good Mom! |
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