I hope you have read the posts for palliative care since
this is a continuation from the other side. I have written about the diagnosis
and hospitalization of J3, part of the story anyway. I have mentioned that
while my focus was completely on J3, there is a J1 and J2 at home, who are
being cared for by Nana, my mother. I am ashamed that during this trying time
they were not on my mind as much as I feel they should have been. I am ashamed
that although I left them in the care of my mother, they were not my main
concern. I am even more ashamed that during all of this time I was inattentive
to what my husband was going through. This post is retrospective from the
pieces I collected after the ordeal was ending.
My husband and I knew J3 was going to need surgery and
the time was quickly approaching, but we were unprepared for the day when the
hospital called and told us to bring him in. My mother, who had already agreed
to care for the children while we were at the hospital was on vacation when we
got the call. She had two days to get home, do laundry, and repack for an
undetermined amount of time. I can say now that it was a blessing that she
retired right before J3 was born. I’m not sure what we would have done
otherwise. Unfortunately, we had to leave for the hospital before she could
make it down to be with the boys. The time gap was about six hours, which
turned into eight due to bad weather. Thankfully, a friend the boys love and
trusted was willing and able to watch J1 and J2 during this time.
At first, the boys were thrilled to have Nana replace
Mommy and Daddy. No doubt plenty of rules were broken during this time. It took
about a week and a half before J1 refused to talk to me on the phone. Even when
we Skyped, he refused to look at me pretending I wasn’t on the screen. I know
this behavior, it is a self-defense mechanism to protect ones-self from being
hurt. J2 was not as bad.
At week three, I was able to come home and visit for the
weekend. J3 was doing well and I felt confident in my leaving him. I knew I was
only getting two days with the boys and I made the most out of it. Donuts for
breakfast, the park, our favorite fast food place, a few errands and an evening
at home before church and now I have to leave. The change was immediate, before
I even left the house they knew. J1 shut down unwilling to even say goodbye. J2
threw a fit that was just the beginning of his aggressive behavior to follow
for the next four weeks.
I didn’t fault either of them. J1 was in a self-defense
mode. J2 was attempting to exert what little control he had over his life. But
I didn’t really have to deal with this behavior, my mother did.
Nana was a hard woman to grow up with, mainly because of
her authoritarian parenting style, and my transference issues. She knew me and
I knew she could handle anything that had to be thrown at her. I didn’t bat an
eye at the idea of her taking over my household. However, she was sixty-three
and suddenly thrusted into a situation where she had to be a single parent.
Sure, my husband was home during the weeks we didn’t have major issues going
on, but he spent most of that time working. Yes, he spent a couple of hours at
night playing with the boys, reading and putting them to bed, but I have no
doubt that my mother still fed and bathed them at night. After they went to
bed, I am sure that my husband turned to his computer for a self-soothing
evening. Neither of us really thought about how she was doing.
My mother would later tell me that the situation was
isolating. She got little sleep. One night J2 had crawled under her bed to
sleep and she was unable to find him. Her stress level was through the roof.
She didn’t have the team of pastors or social workers to help her through a meltdown.
Yes, people visited and brought food, but it isn’t the same as having a break.
Thankfully, one of the women at church was able to get two extra car seats
through a program at the local police station for her so that she could leave
the house.
I felt bad for them, all three of them, but only after I
was already home and knew everything was fine. Still, there is one person who
through all of this suffered right beside me. Stood as a rock and did not
falter until I accused him of moving on without me. He continued watching our
shows without me there. He played games every night he was at home sleeping in
a comfortable bed. He eked by with what support he had and broke down only when
no one was watching. He suffered right beside me and I was oblivious to it
because I was wrapped up in my own pain. He did this because he loved me.
My husband suffered in silence because he loved me. My
mother suffered in silence because she loved me. My father suffered in silence
because he loved me even to the point of taking a three day vacation to drive
up to give me a hug, say hi to the latest grandbaby, and visit his wife and
other grandsons. J1 did his best to protect himself from a new sense of loss
because he feared losing me, because he loved me. J2 became self-asserted and
demanding, because he was thrust into a new situation where I was not a part of
his world and he needed to feel some sort of control on his life. I would like
to think that he did this because I taught him to be self-sufficient, because
he loved me and knew this is what I would want. I am allowed a level of
self-delusion.
It wasn’t until
everything was fine in my world before I opened up to see how everyone else had
weathered. It was an introspective moment that pointed to my selfishness. All because
they loved me.
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