Mother, May I

My sister and I have been talking a lot about the idea of "permission" lately. Our mother is dying and we are both having trouble allowing ourselves time to grieve, time to rest, time with our families, along with, a need to let go of carrying the grief of others.

I can't go too deeply into family dynamics on a public blog, so I will have to keep much of this to my own experience. Recently, I walked into the health food store feeling so tired that I was dizzy and wondered if I should even be on the road. I said to an employee, "I wish some nice doctor would put me on bed rest so I could have an excuse." To which he replied, "You need to put yourself on bed rest, Lisa." No, no--that wouldn't work. I need someone to tell me that it's OK. I see a counselor each week to help me through this process with my mom's illness while dealing with pregnancy at 43. Last week, I told her how I'm so close to having this baby and I feel like it's time I finally accepted it, got ready for it, and God-forbid even nested. But I felt incredible guilt for not making another trip to visit with my mother. She shook her head, scrunched her face, and asked, "Are you looking for permission?" I replied that I guess I was. She said, "OK then, you have my permission to stay home." My sister has given me that same blessing even while she picks up all of my slack.

Against everyone's better judgement, I drove myself to see my mother last weekend and am so grateful for that "extra" time. Today, I was gently scolded by my doctor. Exhausted and in tears, I explained we had just decided to name the baby (instead of waiting to meet her as we wanted) so that we could give my mother the gift of knowing her granddaughter's name. I told her I did not think I could make another trip even with my husband driving. I fear my mother is hanging on until I have this baby to know we are safe. I fear she will pass away very soon and I will not only not be able to be at her side, but I will miss any funeral. My doctor said, "Are you looking for my permission? You can't travel. You need to rest and get ready. Your mother's determination is out of your control and she would not expect you to travel for a visit or for a funeral. You need to take care of yourself and the baby and you have to let go."

When I was growing up, my mother was the caretaker as most women are. In addition to her three kids and husband, she cared for her own parents as needed and most notably, took care of my father's mother in and out of our home for over a decade. That's all I know. You do what you have to do. And yet, I am in Maine and she is in Massachusetts and I'm about to have a baby. I can't be there for her in the same way she was for my grandparents.

I do not write this to sound like some kind of martyr. My fierce independence, my hangover of BCG (Big Catholic Guilt), my desire to "suck it up," and my deep love and appreciation for my mother are all keeping me from accepting permission. I wish I could conclude this entry with some insight for others going through the process of letting go or of acceptance. I wish I could be more philosophical about death and dying. I wish I could say I've learned a lesson and that I will accept the permisson of my mother, my doctors, my sister, my husband. But the fact is, I don't have this figured out. I think the best I can do is take a Benadryl tonight (doctor's orders) and sleep.

Photo: Grandma after her grandson's first bath.