TheLifeandTimesofaMom

Life and Times of a Mommy(:

Hey Momma,

We sure did have a rough go of it, didn’t we? When I tell people that, I’m sure they thing we had the normal mother/teenage daughter relationship. Boy, where they wrong!! No offense, but you kinda lost your mind when you turned 40. It started a little before then, but man, at 40, it got bad. I don’t know if you were trying to rebel again, or what, but woman, you was cah-ray-zeee!!!!!

And when we stopped talking for those 6 months, it was rough. But you needed some tough love. To be honest, the only reason I fixed things was because I didn’t want things to be awkward at Memaw’s during Kase’s baby shower. I never told her we stopped talking. I didn’t want to upset her. She hoped you would come to your senses one day. I think you did a little bit after that.

You know, the toughest part about this, is I can’t call you and say “hey mom guess who I talked to” or “guess who/what I saw!” I especially can’t tell you all the family gossip and who all came to see you. That really sucks. On the plus side though, I got to be you for a change. I got to have some great bonding time with Robin and Amanda on Easter. I got to talk and gossip like an adult! Without having to talk over you.

Mommy, you know I love you. You know I would never do anything to hurt you. When I stopped talking to you, that was for the both of us. So I could learn to be an adult and so could you. When I moved back home with Dad, that was so I could do all the things that you told me I could do all the things you told me I could. Not to abandon you. So when I write these next words, I hope you can understand my reasoning behind it. I hope you will support my decision. It’s for the best, please know that.

In a few months, when everyone is ready, I will go to your mother’s and get what I want of yours. But after that, I will no longer see or speak to your mother or Todd. The only thing keeping me tied to her, Todd, and his family was you. I know she’s had a rough life, but you and I both know she hasn’t liked me for about 9 years now. And I really hope you saw how she treated me while I was there last week. I have never been anything but nice to that woman. She will no longer be part of my family. My children will not know her. Please understand why I’m doing this momma.

I’m really glad I got to talk to you and hear your voice one last time. Mommy, I love you and I miss you. I can’t believe your gone. But I know you were ready. Say hi to everyone for me. Be with me, always.

Love,

Your Baby Girl

 

P.S. For a little more info on whats going on, go here.

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Goodbye for now

No not you, my lovely followers. I will explain what is going on in a minute. First, I want to tell you guys that this post will be an emotional one. You might cry. I will probably be crying along with you. I apologize ahead of time for making you cry. But can I make one thing clear? What I’m about to share, I’ve accepted whole heartedly. Please do not say your sorry. Because to be honest I don’t know how react or what to say, other than thank you. And I don’t feel like that’s adequate enough for the situation. But I am ok with cyber hugs!

About a month ago, my mother had her first stroke. The carotid artery on the left side was 80% blocked. The doctors could leave the blockage alone and she would definitely have another stroke. If they went in and cleared the blockage, there was a chance she would have another stroke. So, they went ahead with the surgery. A side effect of the surgery was headaches because her brain wasn’t used to getting that much blood. No big deal, she dealt with headaches before.

Friday, April 18, she had a headache so bad it made her throw up. So, she went to lay down and take a nap. After that, she was never really responsive. She was taken to the hospital at 5:30 that afternoon. At that point I was on my way to church for an Easter service. We were on the bike, so I didn’t feel my phone vibrate. When we got to the church, I had missed calls and voicemails from my mom’s husband (techinically fiancé because they weren’t married yet). He said that my mom was back in the hospital. I couldn’t do anything from three hours away and didn’t have the gas to rush down there. So we went to the service. My grandpa called me as I was walking out the doors at 9. In a shaky voice, he told me that I needed to get to Little Rock as soon as possible. I knew why, but for some odd reason, I needed to hear it. My mother wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t responsive at all. She was in the emergency room but they would be moving her to ICU soon. At the word ICU, I almost collapsed in the parking lot.

Ladies and gents, that was the fastest ride on that bike I have ever been on. It was a little scary. Mostly because I kept fogging up the visor of my helmet trying not to cry. I had called my dad before we got on the bike and my dad told me exactly what I needed to hear to get me through the next five days. He told me “you need to cowboy up“. Which is his way of saying “get ready, things are about to get really f***ing rough”. (He knows first hand having lost a parent himself, but that’s another story.) So we got home, packed in about 10 minutes, and hightailed it to the state capitol.

We got to the hospital at about midnight. When we walked in my grandfather sat me down in the front entrance to explain to me what had happened with my mother. She had had another stroke earlier in the day. When she got to the hospital, a surgeon said that they could remove part of her skull to relieve the pressure on her brain and remove part of the bleed in her brain. This would give her a 50/50 chance. While trying to decide if they were going to do the surgery, she had another stroke. At this point, if she survived, she would never be able to talk again. The mother that I had talked to the day before was no longer there. She would have to do months of rehab and live in a nursing home the rest of her life, which would have pissed her off to no end. When I went back to see her, she was on a ventilator to keep her from choking on anything. She was also on numerous fluids and antibiotics.

At about 2:30 that morning, we left the hospital to get a few hours of sleep. My few, I mean 3. Maybe. That morning we ran a test to see if there was any brain function what so ever. We wanted to be extremely sure there was nothing there before we made any decisions. We didn’t want to second guess ourselves. At 12:20 Saturday, April 19, 2014, two days after my 22nd birthday and one day after my oldest son’s 4th birthday, my mother was pronounced brain dead. After that, it was up to the doctor on how to proceed. There was nothing more we could to. We would have 24 to 36 hours to day our goodbyes before a place called Aurora took over. Aurora would be the people in charge of donating her organs and tissues.

At 22 years old, 6 days after my birthday, I buried my mother. To everyone, I was strong and on top of everything. To my husband, I was coping until I was alone with him and could break down. I’m not a public crier. I had my break downs in the privacy of my car with my husband. I handled the funeral arrangements, shopping for an outfit for the funeral, doing my mother’s hair and make up so that she looked like my mother, and the funeral with surprising strength. My husband and family are extremely proud of me. I am extremely proud of myself.

I will always miss my mommy. I will always morn her loss. Our relationship might not have been the best, but she is still my mommy and I love her. Today, it’s rough. Little things keep setting me off. Saturday it was the word sinew. Today, it was a Rhode Island license plate. I’m hoping that eventually it will get easier. I’m sure it will always hurt, I’m sure I will always miss her. I know I will always lover her.

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Four Years…

This was taken on Easter. That is mine and my little brother's hand over my belly. This was the weekend before I had him

This was taken on Easter. That is mine and my little brother’s hand over my belly. This was the weekend before I had him

April 18th, 2010 started out like any other Sunday morning. I was 36 weeks pregnant and as big as a house. I mean ginormous. I woke up, got dressed in the comfiest dress I owned, and went to church with my parents. After church, my step mom and I went to Taco Bell. I told her that I was having some weird crampy pains in my stomach. They didn’t really hurt, they were just kind of annoying. “Oh,” she said, “I bet it’s the Taco Bell acting up. I bet Trey doesn’t like it.” So off we went to my baby shower.

The shower was at my best friends house. Sadly, she was at work. But my other best friend was nice enough to show. So there I was sitting there on my best friend’s mom’s prized leather couch. Everyone was getting there food and drinks and party favors. They were all women from my step mom’s Sunday school class, so they were also discussing the sermon and class from earlier. The presents were scattered haphazardly around me waiting to be opened. I glanced over at my best friend and whispered, “you know it would really suck if my water broke right now…”

“WHAT?!?! Your water just broke!?!” My best friend practically shrieked across the room. She was, and still to this day, not the master of subtly, or quietness. My eyes got really big and went to shush her aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then I felt it. A little trickle that kinda felt like I peed myself. Every one’s heads jerked in my direction. I’m pretty sure I heard a couple of necks crack from the sheer force they were cranked at. My step mom rushed me off to the bathroom to check and make sure everything was ok. I sat there on the toilet for a few seconds and she poked her head in the bathroom, caught a glimpse of my undies and said “Yup. It broke.”

The hostess gave me a pair of clean, dry panties and a pad. I slid them on and walked back into the living room to hear my step mom say something about finishing with the presents before we went to the hospital. (We were literally like 5 or 6 minutes away from the hospital.) So. I finished opening my presents, picked what I wanted to take to the hospital with me, packed everything up, and left. On the way, I called my dad and told him to pack a bag for me with my green plaid pants with the pink ribbon tie, a couple t shirts and some undies because we were going to the hospital just in case.

This is my little man at a few weeks old layin' on his Nanna

This is my little man at a few weeks old layin’ on his Nanna

About 8 hours, an almost fight in the delivery room, a small scare with my little man facing the wrong way, and a lovely discussion about who was going to win which category on the CMAs later, my little bundle of joy was finally here. Born at 7 pounds, 9 ounces and 20 inches long, my little man was finally here. He was gorgeous. He was so sweet. He was all mine. He made me feel whole.

Good Friday, April 18th, 2014, that little bundle of joy, my little man, will be four years old. He is growing up on me so fast. Next year he will be starting Kindergarten. He can use the potty by himself, completely and totally. He doesn’t need Mommy to dress him (even though I still do). He doesn’t need help eating anymore. He doesn’t cuddle anymore, too much energy for that. His laugh has changed from that cute baby giggle to that cute little kid laugh. It seems like yesterday he was my little baby. Now he really is growing up into a great little man. For four years, I’ve watched him grow and become this awesome little person. I cannot wait to see what the rest of the future has in store for me. He can be a handful, but he will always be my baby, my little man.

 

This is my little man on his first day of school. Look how grown up he looks.

This is my little man on his first day of school. Look how grown up he looks.

 

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