Archive for the ‘mother’ Category

Coping with “Mom Guilt”

My mom was an expert travel agent when it came time to book a guilt trip. As a young woman, I could get sucked into one as quickly as a stray sock finds a way to bust the belt inside my vacuum cleaner. Eventually, I grew up and grew wise to her manipulation and learned how to stop it dead in its tracks.

Sort of.

The problem, I realized, wasn’t that I couldn’t hop off the guilt trip train. Years ago, I set my bottom line and stuck to it when it came to my mother’s emotional demands. No, the real problem was the guilt was planted deep inside my psyche, as stubborn as a dandelion root, something I didn’t realize until after Mom suffered a debilitating stroke that completely changed the course of our mother-daughter journey, one that inspired me to write a memoir about our time together.

Whoa, guilt. It kept me awake at night. For years, I could only remember those times when I didn’t give into my mother’s demands. Like the time she wanted to come over early for my daughter’s eighth-grade graduation party. I was busy in the yard, trimming the overgrown peony bushes. My husband wasn’t going to pick her up until five, she wanted to come over at two, and I didn’t want the distraction of entertaining her.

“Fine,” she said. “Then I won’t come over at all.”

“Fine,” I said, and I hung up the phone.

Shortly before our guests arrived, Mom called back. “Can you pick me up? I’d like to come after all.”

But it was too late for my husband to drive the forty-minute round trip, and I told my mother as much. I wished she hadn’t called; it’s much easier being angry than dealing with Mom Guilt.

Of course, I couldn’t enjoy my daughter’s celebration. And this became one memory that haunted me for many years with thoughts of, What could I have done differently?

Maybe I could have acted with patience rather than reacting with irritation. Or maybe I could have countered her demand with empathy. Reasoned with her, explained my stress, and how much I wanted to see her, just not as early as she wanted.

Could I have set a different tone? A positive course for the day?

Through the years, our power-struggle with each other controlled the memories we could have made together before her stroke. Instead of talking about it, though, and coming up with a solution to thwart our occasional bad behavior, we just allowed the wounds to fester in our relationship, one I didn’t think I needed but now very much wish I’d had.

Guilty of Mom Guilt

Unfortunately, I’ve repeated this same pattern with my adult children, both my daughter and my son. Recently, my daughter told me something like, “Mom, I’m not going to play this guilt trip thing with you.” Bravo! Good for her.

I think growing up with Mom Guilt stunted my own maternal growth, but I won’t use that as an excuse to repeat the pattern. I can’t, not if I want meaningful relationships with my children, which I very much do.

I’m trying to break the cycle, but it’s difficult sometimes to censor the words that occasionally flow out of my mouth like rain water from an overwhelmed storm sewer.  I need to learn how to step back from the situation, take a time-out, just like I did when my children were young, and I needed to temper my frustrations with them. I must learn to do this; when I don’t take a breather, I’m creating a different type of Mom Guilt, one that affects me much more than being on the receiving end of it.


How do you temper Mom Guilt? Does it play a role in your relationship with your mother? Your children?


We Can Do Better

Aging with Dignity Logo

Aging with Dignity Logo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my country, I’m afraid to grow old. When I turned 50 earlier this year, I defined my new age as the “winter of my life.” Old age does not run in my family–my dad died when he was 32, my mom, 68–and I figure if I see 70, I’ll be lucky.

Or not.

My mother was on Medicare when she suffered her stroke. The brain bleed event rendered her physically disabled, but almost worse, mentally impaired. She lacked cognition. Judgment. Short-term memory, and what one doctor considered “remarkable,” extensive long-term memory damage as well. As such, Mom required 24-hour acute nursing supervision the rest of her life.

When she ran out of Medicare dollars, my mother automatically qualified for Medicaid. You know, the “social program” many politicians and a large segment of society consider a “drain” on our country’s economy. Before my mother was discharged from the hospital three weeks after her stroke, the staff social worker told me that transferring Mom to a swanky assisted living facility was not an option because she lacked private insurance.

Moving my mother in with me wasn’t an option, either. My family and I were renters, without the funds or ability to make our home ADA compliant. We also couldn’t provide my mother with the requisite around-the-clock supervision she needed. There was only one nursing home with an available bed, and after my sister and I toured that facility, I recorded my observations in my memoir:

Right beyond the lobby, we were assaulted with every stereotype associated with nursing homes: Residents moaning from their beds or roaming the halls like zombies without a nurse or aide in sight. A stainless steel food cart filled with trays and dirty dishes from breakfast a few hours earlier. A resident languishing in the hallway, slumped over in a wheelchair in a soiled gown, snoring.  And the urine. God, it was so thick, I couldn’t smell anything else. I shuddered to think of the bed sores that must have been brewing under all those Depends.

While our country is quick to cast aside the aged and the infirm, as well as their caregivers, other countries are doing it better. An article I read this morning demonstrates this. In “The Nursing Home is the Last Resort: ‘Lessons from Abroad’ on Caring for an Aging population, I learned families in Norway receive money to help caregivers bring their aging parents home with them, and nursing homes seem to be the last resort. And in the Netherlands, the government provides funds for the elderly to assess their needs and enable them to live independently as long as possible.

I eventually came up with a short-term solution before I found a suitable long-term care facility, where my mother lived the rest of her life. However,  it would have been such a relief to have had a better alternative. Because Mom’s sudden stroke debilitated her instantly, I was shell-shocked, mentally and emotionally, and I had no idea what I was doing. I’m sure I’m not the only caregiver who has felt this way.

What are your experiences in this particular caregiving journey? How did you cope?