I’ve had the suspicion that my Mom doesn’t know my name anymore. She used to use it and hasn’t done so in over a month. When I arrive, the woman who runs a day program for resident’s with dementia is taking a walk with my Mom.
When my Mom sees me she smiles and I get the typical “Hey, I know you.” I respond, “Hello, Mom” and she quickly replies “You are my daughter?”
I knew this day would come. She is quick to follow me back to her apartment when I tell her I brought her some chocolate covered strawberries.
She spends little time in her apartment now. She will usually tell me she doesn’t know where it is and asks me if I will walk her back to her apartment before I leave. She is always asking what she can do. She craves activity.
Thankfully, the community started a program that runs from 9:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. that has been keeping my Mom busy. She hasn’t been spending days in bed which is what she used to do before the program kicked off. She doesn’t remember that she’s in the program or what they did that day, but it has made a difference in my Mom. I’m not sure if she’s more accepting because of the disease-state, the medication, or she has enjoyed the benefits from accepting help from those around her.
I know the biggest factor for my Mom is my familiarity with her likes and her routines. While she doesn’t recognize me as her daughter anymore, knowing how to interact with her and avoid trigger points has made all the difference in the calm we enjoy together.
I knew this day would come, but knowing it would arrive doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Bummed.
17 thoughts on “You are my daughter?”
It’s a hard thing when this day comes, Kay. You never really get used to it, but the blow of the reality softens over time. Hugs.
Thanks. I expect things to only get worse for her and we hope to make it as nice as we can.
I’m sorry, Kay. That is a difficult day that we will all face. It is a terrible journey, my thoughts are with you.
Thanks … I had been wondering when this day would arrive. It almost surprised me because she did such a good job of hiding it and I never pushed.
I am sad to hear this as well Kay….I know you are ahead of me as far as our moms are concerned so it will also hit me too…..painful and sad…..Mom hands me her checkbook now everytime we go to the Commissary or any store,,,,,asks me if she can have some money and its her money!…I feel you pain and am bummed as well for you all.
It’s amazing how different each person is.
Sorry to hear you have reached this hard turn in the road.
We know the lack of recognition is inevitable, but it still hurts. As difficult as it is, please remind yourself that not being recognized as her daughter does not cancel out the relationship that still exists between you and your mother. She acknowledged you as her daughter far longer than not; this disease robs, steals, and pillages. You are still a valued person in her life.
Thank you. My head knows, but my heart cried. She’s got me ’til she is called upward.
I so dread the day when my mom doesn’t know me… 🙁 I feel for you.
I knew it was coming and logically get it, but it truly stinks. You realize how isolating and terrifying this disease must feel.
One of the defining moments of the disease for me was when my dad looked right at my mom, who he had been married to for 40 years and asked where Jane was. [Jane=my mom]. It was heartbreaking for me, but from my mother’s reaction, it was not the first time she had to deal w/the situation, which made it even sadder.
That being said, we must move past the losses and embrace the moments that we still have with our loved ones, whether they remember us or not. (Not easy to do, for sure.)
Thanks for sharing. We continue to be reminded how devastating and cruel dementia can be.
peace and strength to you