Monday, June 16, 2008

Mother's Day, Part 2

I'll post my actual essay later, much edited and revised (Thanks, Amy! You are awesome!) but it's important to say how it went first.

I wrote another essay that was more specifically about my mother and what I feel are the most wonderful and lasting impacts of her mothering. Then I found out she had been admitted into hospital for severe anemia. In the hospital, she received 2 bags of blood and, the next day, a bag of iron which made her break out into an itchy bright red rash. When they gave her Benadryl, her body went into convulsive spasms.

When I heard that, I booked a flight. Later we learned from several different sources that the iron was most likely pushed too quickly. She's been to a few hematologists, and switched her GP and GI doctors to new people who looked deeply enough to discover her non-cancerous duodenal tumor.

At the date of publishing, all I know is that she has seen or talked to several surgeons who agree that she needs to have it removed ASAP, but won't do it. So it's a bit tricky. Mom feels relieved to have a diagnosis, but it's weird knowing there's this thing inside of her that doesn't belong, is hurting her and she has to be on a quest to find someone to take it all away.

So, while I gave my speech in church, my mother lay in hospital and all I wanted was to be there hugging her. I cried on my way to the church, I cried with my reverend before the service, and later when I read her my essay. She loved it, by the way.


Jack is very sweet in the morning. He smiles and giggles and coos. It helps to make up for, no - magically erase the pain and suffering he caused during the night.

One morning in particular, we had been following our regular pattern of nurse, doze, nurse, doze. He had fallen back asleep so I brought him up to rest facing me on my pillow. I woke an hour or so later to him softly caressing my face. His palm was so soft and warm. I opened my eyes and could see his sparkling blue eyes, his father's eyes, just shining his love for me, just like his father's do.

In that moment, my love for my little family, my sweet son, my loving husband, welled up.

This is why I did this.