A Caregiver's Reflection

A confession: I never thought of myself as a caregiver. Never. As a young mother who loved her children deeply but was too afraid of finding herself trapped in a domestic role, I found refuge in my studies and superimposed an identity to not think of myself as a caregiver.

When my sister started caring for my mom over a year ago, I was impressed at her way of caregiving. But that's something I already knew about her, she is a good caregiver, but not I.

I write this as I sit at the breakfast table with my mom. I lean on her and tell her her sandwich, that I just prepared her, looks good, she raises it and offers me a bite. I have learned to not say no to her. She eats better with company.

Our attachments create new neural pathways. The people we love are engraved in our brains, mapped into our existence by our biology. Isn't it fascinating?

This womb where I have found myself in, is already reshaping me. More than once in my life I have been given visions of life in my dreams and I have felt the spirit world guiding me. Just as I feel the presence of my grandmother near me, near us, and feel moved when my mom tells me she sees her nearby sometimes.

This has not been an easy journey. I woke up last night at 2 am, grateful that I had been able to sleep 5 hrs straight. Of course, that followed by a couple of hours where I was unable to get back to sleep. This morning, I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed a small retraction of the bags under my eyes and celebrated that as a win.

I have felt both physically and emotionally exhausted. This is the reality of caregiving and of caregiving as a mother of two young adults and as a woman in the workforce. My responsibilities did not end with this new role.

I have had days where every moment of silence and aloneness has been filled with ugly cries, but this past Tuesday I celebrated my birthday and I found myself held in the wisdom and empathy of friends who have walked this path before. Yesterday, when I spoke with my mom's doctor in private, I felt validated in both my fears and certainties. I have done this work with a lot of love but little knowledge and it's helpful to know that my care makes a real difference in my mom's wellbeing.

When I have visited patients in the hospital, since my mom got sick, I have noticed that my conversations with them are deeper and longer and it has me wondering if I am showing up differently, if there's something that has already shifted in me that others are perceiving.

We are shaped and reshaped by life over and over again. At this threshold I am asking myself what terrain am I in?, where is this path leading me to? and, who am I now?

I am not worried about finding answers, I am not chasing any wisdom. I am doing my best to be present to all that is right now, even when it's hard.

My brother has been taking my mom with him on the weekends. Some days feel almost too long without my mother here, but I am grateful for the respite, for the opportunity to turn my attention to other areas of life. To have a few extra minutes to post a social media video, to write something, to go for a walk or talk to a friend. Sometimes, I even get to see a movie or read more pages of a book. What is true is that my body has been moving differently since my mom arrived. I am even tempted to believe that my home is breathing differently, too. The plants are thriving, the dogs getting used to seeing more people around.

In a vision where I was initiated in fire into this role, my grandparents and ancestors were there to reassure me that I would not do this alone. I feel their strength in and around me. Through this process, I have learned the powerful lineage we belong to.

The following is a piece I wrote at a recent writing workshop. This role of caregiving is holy work, so sacred to have the honor to tend to another. My mom's presence blesses me everyday. I feel honored to have been called to do this work. To have been found worthy of this sacred tending.

Here's the short text I wrote:

What if this is not a detour but the destination my soul was seeking in its search for wholeness.

What if this is a threshold inviting me into the sanctuary of tenderness and kindness,

Where my ego dissolves and there is something deeper about life, about being human that I begin to understand.

What if this calling to tending to the body and spirit of my mother is an initiation into my own maturation,

With skin falling off of me, a newer one is revealed

Skin that knows how to love the sun, and how to touch the earth. Feet that grow roots to find a home wherever they are planted, the blooming of a garden that invites me to rest as I stay still.

A dance of life between desire and this need to be fully present to another.

What if this is my transformation, the evolution of a girl, a maiden into the threshold of the matriarch, into the home of the wise and timeless, the road to the crone. 

May it be so, may it be so.