Wednesday, September 24, 2014

My strenght, my inspiration, my knowledge...

This beautiful lady is my mom.

My mom is the strongest person I know. I will try as best as I can to write down her tragic story.

My mom was born into a big family with 2 brothers (one of them unknown at that time and one yet to come) and 3 sisters. She grew up at a farm where her father took care of them working on a fabric close by. My mom was born with a hip condition that was so severe; she was actually born without the hip wings, and there was no place to attach her thighs. This was the start of a long life spent in pain and away from her family. She was alone at the hospital for months by herself, refused visitors (Norwegian hospitals were cruel back in the 50'ies). Of what she told me, the worst part was when they did visit her, cause she didn't want to be pitied. Her older brother always got so jealous of the attention she got that he made the small pleasures she got, into nightmares. He was so jealous when she got her first bike (though she was recommended not to cycle with her operated hips) that he run it to pieces. The same thing happened over and over again over the years when my mom was most voulnerable. (Her older brother later shot himself)

Later she grew up just to be bossed around the house by her mom who showed more fist than heart. Also being one of the youngest, she was always the one everyone asked for a lending hand. She was beautiful like that. Never showed them how much they had harmed her in the past, but spread love as best as she could. Not to mention the attempted assault by family members, and even her own father.

She grew up to be a beautiful 16 year old. Yet she was picked on about her weight. Her sisters told her she was ugly, but yet she was always there ready to wash their clothes and curl their hair. She went through many operations as she grew. The hips had to be replaced to fit her size. At age 16 she was raped. And in a small town like that, it ended up with her loosing the case against her violator. She told me in confidentiality, that the threatening by knife and the actual raping wasnt close to as bad as being rejected by your community. Her parents then decided, being old fashioned and all, that she should find someone who would marry her, despite her being "used". This she did, and in 11 tormenting years she was told she wasnt good enough for anything. She was forced to give him two children, which grew to become her only reason to live. For her children. During these 11 years she went through many surgeries on her hips, but also on her back.

Then, she had enough of it. She moved and met my dad. Together they got three childrens. Two of them with difficulties from birth. No, I was none of the needing ones. She brought her second son with her, the first was old enough to decide himself. My mom finally lived with love around her. She got friends and she had her kids surrounding her. Around year 2000 and 2001 she got her last hip-replacement and I remember her sqeeky knees whent silent after that. What I didn't know until later was that all of this made her very depressed. In 2002 we went to our first and only flight south to crete. I had an accident there, and my mom had her first panick attack because of me.

In 2007, a year before I moved from home. She grew ill. She was only 52 years old, but her smoking had been wearing down her lungs. She went through a very serious lung infection that fall, and never got to herself again after. In the fight to get better, she grew more and more anxious. She was now growing incapable of taking care of her children, the only thing she had been living for her whole life. With the lung decease she was growing severely ill psychologically. She went to shrinks, to therapy to hospital. But no one really knew what was wrong with her. Most of her problems was continous infections in her lungs. She was a lot of ill on and off, and never got back to her own self. She grew incapable of takeing care of herself. Then, she lost weight. She's always been a healthy 68kg, but after all this she was too often down at merely 40 kg. The panick attacks took their tall on her, several a day. The pills she needed for treatment were withheld by her doctor, because it was waved off as something entirely psychological. Something she was imagening. She almost died many times. It was hospital visits one after another. This was later though, the first years she didn't want to realize she was ill, and her local doctor didn't see her situation as severe.

A year ago, she moved to my oldest brother, her first born. She went through a lot of systems to try to get the help she needed. And she grew better for a short period. These photos are from that period, where she hoped that she could fight it off. But then it got worse. And worse. And worse. I felt bad for always reminding her to eat more, but I knew that somewhere inside herself, the constant dieting youth she had, was secretly enjoying the weight loss. No one could call her fat again. Her not being able to put on weight lead to some serious hospital visits. We were told more than once that she might not make it. Her body was fighting to survive. I remember it too well, seeing her there in the hospital bed, her tiny body being attached to various instruments including one that was breathing for her. Her tiny chest being filled with air. Her beautiful red hair that was messy from sweat.

The last months of her life, she was granted a permanent place in a care center. She could finally just rest and get the help she needed.

The last week of her life. She was very frustrated and scared. She couldn't move her body. Not even enough to get a sigarette which she was very desperate about. She was both angry and scared and I hated that I couldn't do anything to help her with that. She even called me in desperation, telling me that the staff was poisoning her. She was paralyzed and it didn't occur to any of us that it was the final battle of her body. It had given up and was dying.

I was in Spain when I got called from the hospital, telling me she might not make it another time. An hour later she was gone And two hours later, I felt her presence with me.

She deserves all the credit in the world for racing 5 children with a body that was never intended to give birth to even one. She had nothing but love to give. Despite all her pain. All her fears. She tought me everything I know. This doesnt tell you about my relationship with my mom, but I can say that we were very close.

Written 25th july 2014: She passed away yesterday. And even though we saw it comming and it was a long, hard and brave fight: I'm in shock. I'm so indescribably proud of you, mom!
I love you.

Again, I love you mom.

2 comments :

Nathaniel Barrie said...

I'm deeply sorry for your loss. Your mother seemed to be a great and wonderful woman.

Anonymous said...

You written it so well I almost lived it while i was reading...
She must be so proud of raising a daughter like you.