When you decide to have a child, you are also deciding to experience the worst, most eviscerating pain and the deepest, most unshakable love for the rest of your life. That may sound melo-dramatic, but in my experience, it’s true. The roller-coaster is unpredictable and explosive. One minute, it feels as though your heart is going to explode from the joy, pride, and love you feel for your child, and the next, it feels as though your heart has been been ripped in two, and not a clean cut either. It’s jagged one that pierces as you gasp for breath.
Last night was one of those explosive moments. As I was sitting in the dentist chair, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. It was a call from Zxx, my daughter’s husband. Obviously, I was in no position to answer the call, so I let it go to voicemail, figuring he would leave me a message.
Oddly, he didn’t, so I texted him, “In the dental chair. Emergency?” No response.
Mxxx was waiting for me in the parking lot. As I slid into the passenger seat, I told him about the call. I clicked the seat belt; we were due to Mxxx’s mom and dad’s for supper, but I felt uneasy. I looked at Mxxx and said, “Something is off. Go drive by Zxx and Exxxx’s. Please?” Mxxx is used to this type of behavior from me, so we did.
Zxx’s car was there, so he wasn’t at work, but as I looked around to the back of the house, I noticed that the Jeep was gone.
I have absolutely no explanation for this, but my “Momtuition” was tingling. I said, “Drive by the hospital.” Mxxx didn’t even ask. He just took a right and headed toward Trott. As we drove North in the direction of the hospital, a text came through from Zxx. “Call me when you’re done please.” That was the punctuation point. I just knew.
I called immediately. Zxx picked up and told me they were at the hospital. By this time, we were a block away.
He quickly relayed what happened. Zxx had left at noon to go to work. Exxxx was in the bedroom, ready to nap with the boys.
When he got to work, his phone pinged. It was Exxxx’s glucose meter. She was low. It happens. She usually eats some fruit snacks, which brings it back up.
Zxx got busy with a client at work. Later, he got back to his phone and she was still low - like, low (40s). So he called her, just to check to make sure she was on it.
No answer. He immediately left work.
When he got home, she was still in the bedroom with the boys. It was 4:00 - four hours after he left for work. She was in the same position. She was unresponsive. The boys were in the room with her, but obviously, they had no clue.
Zxx called the ambulance, and by the time they arrived, she was responsive. However, she remembers nothing. There is a whole block of time that’s just gone from her memory.
All this was relayed to me as we parked the car. I wanted to throw up. Zxx said his mom was with him and the boys were there as well. They could see us through the windows, and the little boys were happy to see us.
I told him, “Give me a sec. I have to pull myself together. I don’t want the little boys to see me like this.”
He said, “Sure. . .but hold on. They are letting us go back to see her. We will wait until you get in here.”
I was gulping air. “Come on, Miss. Suck it up. Let’s go.” As I have had to do many time in my life as a mother, I had to stuff whatever storm was going on inside into a hidden closet in my chest. As Mxxx and I entered the ER doors, Cxxxxx came running. Grandma smiled and scooped him up, cooing soothing words into his air, knowing that his little world had been confusing and scary too.
Once she got to the hospital, Exxxx got glucose and fluids and was home shortly thereafter. I came over, per Zxx’s request, and just helped a little - cleaning up, helping give the boys a bath, etc.
At one point, Exxxx knelt down beside me in front of the tub. We were side-by-side, Mom-and-daughter-and-Mom, watching the boys splash in the tub. At one point, she clung to me and just sobbed, the reality and gravity of it all finally demanding attention. I kissed her head and held her. I told her, “It’s ok to feel sad.” I paused, “But it’s not ok to feel guilty. You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault.” I wanted to cry too, but I saw the little boys were watching us with confused looks. There would be time for crying later. Now, was not the time.
Diabetes is such a fucking snake of a disease. It is sneaky, slithering out of nowhere and striking when one least expects it. Its venom is quick and deadly. Not for the first time, I inwardly seethed, “Give it to me, God. Take it from her, and give it to me.” But that isn’t going to happen, no matter how much I beg and bargain. There is no way I can take this burden from her, and this is not a snake that I can kill. I know it will be back. The shitty part is that its venom isn’t just deadly to my daughter; it is deadly to all of us who love her. And that is truest story you will find about what it is really like to be a mother. The love and the pain is extreme, and its intensity does not fade over time.
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