Pain of Mother's Day

Mother's Day is not on my list of top 10 favorite holidays. Matter of fact, I detest it! Now don't get me wrong. I don't hate mothers ... 'cause I have one (although she is 94 and usually thinks I am her sister) and I am one, three times over. None of us escaped having a mother; many of us are mothers or hope to be someday. But the sad truth is that many have lost mothers, and many mothers have lost children, and many women are trying unsuccessfully to become mothers ... and Mother's Day is huge reminder to us of all that pain and emptiness.

I don't understand why there should be one designated day when everyone is told to honor and adore your mother. Why not give her special attention every day? Why not visit or call her, show your appreciation, tell her how much she means to you, shower her with love and affection without being prompted by retailers and florists? Mother's Day is the 4th biggest retail holiday in this country. I prefer to buy gifts for people, including my mom, when I see something that makes me think of them and not when I am told I must. Perhaps that is just the rebel in me.

If your mom is no longer living, I am sure it is difficult to celebrate this day. It is a huge reminder that she is no longer a living part of your life. Your visit to the cemetery isn't the same as giving her a hug or hearing her voice or seeing the delight in her eyes at the sight of you. Mother's Day reminds you of the unconditional love that is missing from your life. And if you are a mother missing your mother, the day must be painfully complex.

Many have moms who are living with dementia or Alzheimer's disease, like mine, who no longer recognize their children. It is bittersweet. She is still alive but no longer the same mom you have known all your life. Mother's Day is difficult when your mother doesn't remember your name or recall that you are her child.

If you are a woman unable to have children, Mother's Day must be hurtful. You want so badly to have the title Mother. You dream of little arms wrapped around your neck and hearing a little voice call you Mommy. What's to celebrate for you with your breaking heart? It's just a reminder of what you yearn for but are being denied.

If you have lost one of your babies (however old, they are always your babies), then I do understand the pain you will be feeling. You feel it every single minute of every day, but on Mother's Day the pain is sharper and your loss is more intense. I lost my daughter Jaime to melanoma when she was 29. I was her mother; I was supposed to protect her ... and I failed. It may sound silly that I think I should have been able to keep the cancer from destroying her little body and taking her life, but I was her mom and keeping her from harm was my job. I failed ... and Mother's Day is a reminder of that.

If you still have other living children, the day is a major predicament. You have trouble celebrating the day because your heart is torn. A valuable piece of making that day special is missing ... one of your children. But your other children have a mother and want to celebrate with her ... because, after all, all the commercials on TV remind them that that is what they are supposed to do. So for your surviving children, you put on your happy mask and somehow get through the day even though you are crying silently on the inside. 

So although the retailers look forward to Mother's Day, I will just be glad when it is over. And I know I am not alone in those feelings.  It makes me so sad that this day causes so much pain to so many ... but please know that I am thinking of each of you this Mother's Day.

Blowing Out Birthday Candles ...

March 16, 2007. It was a beautiful, warm and sunny Spring day. It was my birthday. It was a perfect day for celebration ... but it was to be the worst day of my life. On that date many years before, I had taken my first breath; on that same date 60 years later, my only daughter Jaime would take her last.

The nightmare begins

My baby girl was diagnosed with melanoma when she was 20 years old, after years of searching for the perfect tan with the help of tanning beds. She was a frequent fryer and paid the ultimate price. A mole on her back seemed to be where this cancer wanted to set up shop. That damn mole caused more pain, suffering, and broken hearts than I can find words to describe.

Initially she was determined to be in an early stage of melanoma, and we were told after 3 years that she was cured. NOT! I know now that you are never "cured" of melanoma. If you are lucky, it becomes inactive until something wakes it up at a later date. February 2002 Jaime's cancer awakened (see my blog With This Ring ...), and our nightmare began. She was in the final stage, Stage IV. Her cancer had spread, and there was no stopping it. Jaime faced this challenge with amazing strength and courage and a positive attitude, which she also demanded from those around her ... and always with a smile on her face. She was so determined that she would not die from this horrific disease that we were all convinced that she would indeed beat it. We chased it around her little body for 5 years with surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, every treatment option available ... until ... until March 16, 2007.

Sleep, my little one, sleep

Her last night was a good one, considering. Her brother Ben and I slept by her side at the hospital that night. I guess the word "slept" isn't really the best word choice. We watched her tiny body in the huge hospital bed move up and down gently with each breath she took, like I used to watch all my babies as they slept. She was curled up in a ball, just like she liked to sleep and hadn't been able to for many months because of breathing problems caused by tumors pressing on whatever they were pressing on. We listened to her softly chattering away. We couldn't make out what she was saying, but her sweet child-like tone was assurance that she was enjoying the conversation. And then she would giggle. And that giggle is the last sound I heard her make ...

The end of hope

By the following morning (Friday, March 16), Jaime had drifted into a coma. Her oncologist came to see her in her hospital room as he did every morning and evening. He wasn't on call that weekend, and without giving it much thought, I said, "Well, see you on Monday." He looked at me with the saddest of looks and shook his head no. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and it hit me ... we will not be here on Monday!  I think that is the first time that I really allowed myself to understand that we were at the end. All the treatments, medications, scans and reports, doctor office and hospital visits, clinical trials, barf bags, cases of Ensure, doctors and nurses, new friends made through this journey, old friends lost who didn't understand, a new melanoma vocabulary, the dark sense of humor we had developed to help us cope, all the fear, all the pain, all the tears, all the prayers had lead us to this point. There was no more room for hope ... the hope we had clung to for 9 years; the hope Jaime demanded that we have.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Then my son gently reminded me that it was my birthday. I told Jaime that I would love for her to open her eyes and wish me a Happy Birthday ... but if she couldn't, then the best birthday gift she could give me would be to leave her melanoma-battered body behind and just fly away. And off she flew ...


But Jaime's story doesn't end there. I am not telling you her story to solicit sympathy but to make you aware of the torture that tanning beds and melanoma has caused our family and friends. I am telling you Jaime's story because she can no longer do so ... and it is a story you need to hear. Her story has been featured on local and national TV news, radio, magazines, newspapers, public service announcements (http://t.co/YrV1At9qTD) ... and even in theaters. Almost every lawmaker across the country in any state considering tanning bed legislation has heard her story, along with the FDA and the CDC. Her story is told on Facebook and Twitter and at melanoma walks and events. A scholarship at her alma mater University of North Texas has been started in her name, and her professors tell her story to their young students. Her face has even smiled down from melanoma awareness billboards! Don't count her out because she is not done yet.

On March 16, 2007 ... like blowing out candles on a birthday cake, the light of a young life, my sweet Jaime's life, flickered and was gone. And all our lives have been darker without her laughter, her joy, her courage, her love, and her light. We miss you, Jaime girl, with every beat of our hearts!


 Melanoma Mama (Jaime's mom, Donna)
Twitter: @melanoma_mama
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/donna.h.regen
http://www.facebook.com/jaime.regen.rea (Remember Jaime)

http://www.facebook.com/BanTheBeds (Pull the Plug on Tanning Beds)
Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/shop/sweetpea321 (Jjem Creations)
Ebay: http://stores.ebay.com/Sweetpea321 (Jjem Creations)