Everything Happens for a reason
I remember the day like it was yesterday, I came home from school on a hot, sunny, September afternoon. It was the Wednesday of September 27th. I was in the 7th grade. I came home to find my Mom sick in her bed. She was laying there, helpless, and I could tell she was in a lot of pain. I was worried about her, and what was wrong. She assured me that it was just the flu. Her symptoms were a nausea, and the “worst headache she’s ever had in her life” she said. This went on for 2 days, she couldn’t eat without throwing up, or get out of bed without throwing up. Seeing my Mom this weak made me feel helpless because as much as I tried to help her, I couldn’t do much, I was only 12. While my Mom was stuck in bed, I was the only one between my younger sister who was 10, and my older brother who was 16, who knew how to do laundry and mainly how the household ran. It makes sense that my brother would have known how to keep things under control, but he’s a boy, so I was stuck with that responsibility.
The evening of the second day mom was feeling this way, my Dad came home from work and brought her to the hospital. Before he took my Mom to the hospital, I had to help my Mom get dressed in fresh clothes and brush her teeth so she was somewhat put together, although she was far from that on the inside. While running a comb through my Mom’s hair, she became so nauseous that she threw up the little bit of food she had in her stomach from the past 2 days. I was so scared because I knew that if my Mom had just the flu, she would have been able to pull herself together in front of me, and not let me take care of her. But, I figured that since she cared for me all those years when I was sick, I could do the same for her. When my Dad got home, we knew something was not right. My Dad didn’t want to scare me and my siblings, so he was very vague about what was going on. But, I knew something serious was happening because my older sister came home from college and went to the hospital with my Dad.
The night they left was the most nerve wracking time of my life, I lost all focus on anything. I wondered “what could be going on?”, “Was that the last time I would ever see my Mom?”. I prayed more than I ever had before, hoping my Mom would pull through and be okay. I had the biggest knot in my stomach for what felt like forever, just waiting for a call from my Dad and hearing him say “everything’s okay, mom will be just fine”, but that call never came. I was a mess, meanwhile, trying to keep my younger sister, Holly, calm. I didn’t want Holly to feel how I did, so I did as any older sister would look out for her. I assured her that everything was fine and our Mom would be home soon. Little did I know, that was far from true.
After my Mom’s first night at Elmhurst Hospital, my siblings and I received a call the next day from our Dad. After a night of him saying all was alright, he confessed to us that our mom had just undergone brain surgery. She had 2 brain Aneurysms and one of them burst.
My heart dropped all the way into the pit of my stomach. But, as my Dad continued talking, he said “The surgery went as planned and Mom is going to be just fine”. I felt a wave of relief come over me. Little did I know, this was only the beginning of the battle to come.
She was transferred to Rush hospital in Chicago. I later found out that only 40% of people survive ruptured brain aneurysms and I was so grateful that my Mom was apart of that 40%. I wanted to hug her surgeon so tight and thank him for saving my best friend.
Although I was a little frustrated with my Dad for not keeping me fully updated, I was just thankful my Mom was okay and still with us. Later it came to my knowledge that my Mom would be kept in the hospital for 2 weeks and I would have to take on the responsibility of laundry and all the household chores, with hardly any help from my siblings. My Aunt, and my Mom’s best friend, were at my house each day after school to make sure we did our homework, and got dinner on the table each night.
The first time we visited my Mom was the day after her surgery. I walked into the hospital not knowing what to expect or how to react. I walked into her hospital room that was dark and silent, the only sounds were the machines beeping. I saw her laying in the bed, the whole side of her head shaved, and the stitches from her surgery all up the side of her head showing. I was terrified. I immediately burst into tears and had to leave the room to walk the halls because I didn’t want to make my Mom upset. I felt just as helpless as my Mom looked, but I had to keep it together because she wouldn’t want me to be scared.
I went back in the room just as nothing had happened and put on a smile and hugged my Mom. I hugged her tightly but didn’t want to hurt her fragile body. Her warm embrace overcame me and I felt a wave of relief come over me that I hadn’t felt in days. Her smell was still present and made me think back to all those times growing up, when she would tuck me in at night or lay with me until I fell asleep. All the little things that my Mom did for me over the years ran through my head like watching a movie replay.
When I was let go from her arms, I came back to reality and remembered where I was and what had happened, unfortunately. I laid with my mom in that hospital bed all night while she was in agonizing pain. It killed me to see her like this because my Mom is the strongest person I have ever known, and to see her hurting was the worst possible feeling. The nurse would come in, give my Mom some more water, check her blood pressure, and ask her pain level on a scale of 1-10. That night my Mom had said her pain level was at a 9. Later, the nurse had said “She said her pain was a level 9, she was definitely at a 10 tonight. She’s a trooper.” It was typical of my Mom to hold it together even when anyone else in her situation would not have.
Each day going back to that hospital room she progressed back to health more and more. I could subtract a day of her stuck in that room, until she got to come home to us. Things were looking up and I had kept up with all of the household functions and my schoolwork during this time.
When trying times and hardships occur, it really brings out one’s true colors, mine showed through, and how you react to a situation of trying times depicts who you are as a person. I realized that I am a much stronger person than I ever thought was possible and have become a better person because of this. I have grown and matured so much from that experience and am more than grateful to have a mom like I do. From this experience I also learned that not all things come easy, and to cherish the time and life you have with people because the unexpected could happen at any time. You never know when the last time you’ll see someone could be, so make each moment with them worthwhile. I have also aspired to be how my Mom has raised me, strong. Not physically, but emotionally. I now see the value and importance of family and thank God each day that my Mom is still here because I would be lost without her. Every kid deserves and needs a mom; and I think they need their kids just as much. I am more than thankful to have my mom; my best friend, through everything, back with me today.
Abbie's Blog 