Today during my orientation a video was presented to emphasize the importance of patient involvement. While watching the video it became clear to me that where this was going was very similar to my daughter’s ordeal in last hours of her life in the ER and in PICU.
A woman began talking about her experience with her son and his passing. From the original delivery of her son to age 12 when he stopped breathing. Their trip to ER via ambulance – ER and his final minutes. Having to stop CPR and watch him die.
Well – I had to leave at the end, because I became overwhelmed with grief that this mother and father had to endure what I know and feel to be the worst thing that could possibly happen to a parent. The early death of a child. It brought back a lot of bad flashes of memory of the CPR and the nurse performing it, while the doctors and others reviewing the information and telling us “her heart won’t be able to take much more”. The most devastating thing I’ve ever heard. Right up there with “your daughter is having seizure activity 70% of her awake time”.
It’s an ugly place to go if I let my mind. I refuse most days to go there, but sometimes I can’t help it. It’s in my face. It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost 6 months.
I prayed a lot today for peace and grace to make it through the day. I did.
until next time,
mercedes
I am sooo sorry you had to go through that without support from those who know about Brittany. I wish I could have been there for you. Give grace a big hug and keep praying. Know that I am always here for you Denise #3
thanks denise!
I can not even imagine what its like to deal with what you’ve been through. I did not know you back then, but glad I do now. You are one of the strongest, faithful people I have ever met. Keep that faith. Keep praying. Keep sharing. hugs. me.
Hugs
“My identity was so tied up in my family. I was my mom’s daughter, my grand mother’s grand daughter and my daughter’s mother. Now I am none of those. I am no longer a mother.”
Well there are big fallacies here: you are still someone’s daughter and granddaughter and you are still a mother. You will always be a mother. Your daughter might not be here but you are still her mother, the loss doesn’t negate that. Your role has changed; you were so caught up in the caring and nurturing that the loss pulled bigger rug out from under you. You still have so much to give and to offer, and your caring and loving kindness can begin to be transferred to others who may need you, when you feel a little better. You will always be a mom, and you will redefine yourself as time goes by to a mom and a ______, whatever that may be.