Why we walk: Because of Mom.

In order to gear up for the Walk to End Alzheimer’s Mom and I are posting videos about why we walk. I've talked with Mom and through our conversations mapped out four reasons that motivate us to walk. In addition to those videos I wanted to reflect more on our reasons for walking. So, each week I am going to include a blog post where I can let out a bit more of what's been muddying up my headspace and share a bit more of my heart for our "reasons." 

So, reason 1:

1. We walk because of Mom.

I think, when we start to care for big, overarching causes we often lose sight of the individual. But my Mom is a person -- a beautiful, intelligent, life-giving human, and Alzheimer’s is slowly robbing her of what makes us most human – the memory of our experiences.

When we recorded our video, Mom spoke specifically to the loss of her autonomy in her ability to drive. She feels confined because she can’t go places, and of course she does.  Can you imagine working all of your life to get to that sweet point of retirement, only to have your years of friendship with you adult children, travel, deepening friendships, and raising grandchildren diminished because you are constrained in when you can go places and how you can get there?  It sucks beyond measure or articulation.

Additionally, I talked about (and you likely observed in the video) how Mom is struggling now to articulate ideas and find words. A conversation that we used to be able to have in twenty seconds now takes two to three minutes, and in our fast paced culture we are so busy zipping off from one thing to the next that we forget to have patience to slow down so that Mom can find her words. I am most guilty of this – sometimes I am so rushed that I just skip a conversation altogether. For Mom this has to amplify the isolation already growing between the gaps. I try to be mindful and take time. But it is hard.

One of my all-time, favorite TV moments is when Stephen Colbert takes a few minutes on his show, The Colbert Report, to talk about his mother after she passed away. This is the segment I find myself revisiting, time and again: 

"I know that it may sound greedy to want more days with a person who lived so long," said Stephen, breaking character to eulogize his mother and fighting back tears. "But the fact that my mother was 92 does not diminish, it only magnifies the enormity of the room whose door has now quietly shut."

I believe one of the reasons why Alzheimer’s research goes unfunded and the disease goes unmentioned in discussions on the greatest medical challenges of our time is that we consider significant memory loss to be a normal side effect of old-age. Our sharpness will inevitably dull, our memories will blur, and so Alzheimer’s is just an end of the normal continuum in the aging process. However, Colbert's segment reminds us that no daughter or son is any less consoled to watch their parent suffer. No circumstances diminish the challenges as parents fight off any illness, or ultimately succumb and pass away. The fact that they were older or led a full life does not necessarily lessen the pain or narrow the gaps in our hearts as we watch as innocent bystanders in the face of suffering. 

The horrors of Alzheimer’s are brazen when we observe them in the cases of those with early-onset, like my mom. But one thing that caring for my Mom has taught me is that when illness and death strike those who are older, it is still incredibly painful and challenging for their community and loved ones, no matter their age.

And so -- the enormity of what Alzheimer’s takes from us spans the whole of humanity, but I also experience this in the specific and exact ways it is robbing my mother of her memories, experiences, and ability to cherish her "golden years." I see it when her eyes well up in panic because misplacing her purse isn't just a mundane annoyance, but a slap-in-the-face reminder of how hard it is to keep up with the demands of a routine day when amyloid plaques are gumming up neural connections. I feel the pang of the loss when my mom stutters over words as she tries to read to my infant son. It pervades our days in a very direct way, and I am not even the one who has to suffer directly from the illness.

And so, we walk because of how Alzheimer's has directly affected Mom. 
We walk because of Mom. More next week...

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post-workday brain dump

"Play can just be fun. Fart jokes can just be funny. Daydreaming and wasted time don't have to be framed as developmental tools; they're just nice."

Someone just posted this article on Facebook, and I am a huge fan. As I begin navigating the world of parenthood I often find myself responding to new parenting trends with thoughts like "but, my parent's generation seemed to do this very differently, and I/my friends all turned out well and good.".

Discussion around parenting styles are always so loaded -- our kids are the most important, wonderful people in our lives. So as we make decisions about how to raise our children, they are implicitly going to be loaded with meaning. Thus, it's hard to discuss parenting styles with others in a way that is open and non-judgemental when you have such a deep connection and greater sense of purpose driving your particular decisions/approaches. Same goes with conversations about politics and religion, I s'ppose.

--> Enter, this article! I find that these words provide a freeing frame of mind/perspective as we enter in to these conversations.  And I don't think the deeper takeaway has to be "parenting approaches don't matter." It's "do your damnedest to give parenting your all, but know that the most important thing is loving your kids." Make the big-picture focus on appreciating and experiencing the day-to-day together.

--

However, I think there's another side to this article that I've been grappling with, in conjunction with reading Coates' book and being 'Mom' to Asher: "If the [experts] of the world were honest, their parenting advice would begin: Have a healthy kid, live in an affluent area (with low crime and good schools), be from a socially privileged demographic, and make a decent amount of money. From there on, it's pretty much coasting."

When we live in a society that still remains segregated, where our children's lives diverge sharply based on the zip code where they live, how do I/(we) respond? (And by respond I mean, in DOing and not just in reading a lot of chic articles about social justice and race.)  What do I do as a parent to live in such a way that I am daily trying to address/break down these systemic injustices and raise up my son to do likewise?

I hope to start writing more about how I'm trying to deal with my life in the 'burbs and my search to figure out how to be more engaged (civic-ally) in a real, honest way, because it's been totally consuming my headspace lately. So I guess more on that soon.

Tuesday musings

The arrival of Asher has sped up life in a crazy way. It's not one of those "you blink and the day is gone" kind of thing. The days have been so full -- first with hours of rocking, snuggles, and just staring. The amazement at awe at his everything was so consuming the first few days and weeks. That feeling is so deep and abiding, that even when I can't remember some of the smaller things, I will treasure the awe of how perfect he is.

And since then, the days have changed - first with smiles, and then the soft, sweet coos and giggles. Of course there were the frazzled, haggard hours and all of the zombie-feelings. That third-fourth month when the internet swears to you that he is/should/will soon be sleeping through the night, but you know it's one big fat lie and are almost convinced it will never come.

But those moments are subsumed in the joy of the incredible newness when they first gurgle, sit up, touch your face. There is great bewilderment and mutual discovery.  

And amid all of these new discoveries as a Mom, I've lately been surprised by twinges - some of nostalgia and mourning, as we continue to struggle with my Mom's battle against Alzheimer's and the ever-changing role as caregivers. But more surprisingly, Lexington all of a sudden became home. Things fell into place in a way I'd never imagined/planned for myself. It initially felt like I was living someone else's life. I wanted to go, travel, be elsewhere, buck the white picket fence and comfy home. But here we all are, and amid the "comfy" suburban life there is such deep, unanticipated hardship - totally breaking down my stereotypes/childish perspectives of the lives I thought everyone around me was building. 

And in addition to the hardship there is profound joy, fullness, flavor in a world I'd written off as insipid. 

There is potential

There is hope

There is fulfillment

and so much love.

Calling all dog lovers!

My family and I need your help! We're looking for a new home for these two cuties. These pups were both rescues and belong to my wonderful momma, but as her Alzheimer's progresses and Charlie and I continue to navigate the role of caregiving for multiple folks, we've all (Mom included) reached the point where we've realized that three dogs is just too much for our already full home. 

This is where you come in! Here's your chance to bring home an older little critter that is loving, well-trained, and fully up to date on all their vaccines.  See below to learn more about each pup.  Feel free to email me (ellie.m.hahn@gmail.com), send me a Facebook message, or leave a comment below if you (or someone you know) is interested in adding both/either of these two to your family. We'd love to find homes for them in the Central KY area, but are even willing to travel throughout the South to get them to you. Our top priority is ensuring they end up with a good family.

Darlin:

This little gal is (mostly) Jack Russell, filled with unending affection and loads of character. She's a people-pup for sure!  She'll follow you to any room in the house and never passes up the opportunity to be petted and fawned on. She's great with kiddos and loves going on walks. Darlin is eight years old and in great health.

Dillon:

This little fella is a quiet and contemplative pup. He's a Boston Terrier-Jack Russell mix, and is a lap dog through-and-through. Dillon will love to curl up with you while you sip on your morning cup o' Joe and read the paper. He's not a big crowd kind of guy, but is deeply loyal and attached to his family. He is nine years old and in great health.

oh happy day!

Happy birthday to my momma, who has taught me what it means to be kind, selfless, generous, tough, and independent. She has instilled so many wonderful things into my life. Two that I've been reflecting on today - a deep love of the outdoors and never-ending wanderlust. My childhood was filled with adventures up mountains and into forests. She took me on a trip out West when my legs were still too short to walk the long hikes, carrying me in a pack and calming me at a campsite, because she wanted to go and wanted me along for the ride. 

Her life's work as a teacher and counselor is my mirror - a beautiful reflection of how to love openly and work hard at something that matters day in and day out. Her constant smile, unending patience, and enduring grace have helped each of us meld our family back together and find our place in our shared home when we returned to Kentucky. She has taught me bravery and courage in the face of veryhard things. And most of all, she teaches me, daily, how to be 'Mom' to Asher. 

I love you, Mom, and am deeply grateful and blessed to be your daughter. 

heard around our home

"Sometimes I feel like I conduct self-therapy by mentally imagining myself having an interview with Terry Gross."  -Ellie

"What about Tarzan?  That movie really featured Phil Collins. Or just -- what about Phil Collins?" - Charlie

And then some new music permeated our upstairs walls, thanks to the good taste of friends...