Pre-Order So God Made a Mother

My husband recently told me he doesn’t remember what I was like before my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I guess that’s fair. We only started dating one year before I started noticing changes in my mom and only two years before she was officially diagnosed. We actually got engaged the same month my mom was diagnosed.

My husband knows how to love an Alzheimer’s daughter because that’s all he’s ever known. He loves me, and so he loves an Alzheimer’s daughter. But there might be some people out there who aren’t exactly sure how to deal with it. Maybe you knew your wife or girlfriend long before her parent was diagnosed and now all you know is that she’s changed. Maybe her parent was just diagnosed, and you’re trying to navigate your new normal. Maybe you just met her, and you already know you love her, but you’re just not sure how to love an Alzheimer’s daughter.

I’ll tell you.

First of all, hug her more than seems necessary. She can never get enough hugs. She needs to be physically reminded of your love and support for her. She needs to know that although her parent may no longer be able to hug her, you can. When you don’t know what to do or what to say, just hug her. Hold her. Never be the first to break away.

RELATED: Did My Mom Know How Much I Loved Her?

Don’t try to fix everything. She doesn’t talk about her feelings or vent to you so you can offer her solutions. You can’t fix it. She knows that. She doesn’t expect you to even try. She just needs someone to listen without judgment even if you don’t fully understand what she’s going through. You don’t have to. You just have to listen.

Never, and I mean never, say “but this” or “at least that.” No, just no. She knows she still has a lot to be grateful for. She knows better than anyone because she knows loss better than anyone. She doesn’t need you to remind her. She knows what she has, and she knows what she’s lost. She doesn’t need to look on the bright side or think positive thoughts. There’s a time and a place for positivity, but right now it just sucks. And that’s all she needs to hear.

Understand she will often feel sad for apparently no reason.

Understand there is most definitely a reason. She is watching her parent disappear, slowly and painfully, right before her eyes. She grieves each and every loss along the way, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. She is losing the person who raised her. She is grieving the loss of that person. She is grieving a death that has yet to come. Her parent is becoming someone she doesn’t even recognize, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She is sad. She is always sad. She has every reason to be.

RELATED: What it’s Like To Love a Motherless Daughter

Don’t tell her how to grieve. Let her cry when she wants to. Let her talk about her parent when she wants to. Let her show you pictures. Let her tell you when something reminds her of her parent. Let her tell you why it makes her sad. Let her keep all of the things that remind her of her parent. Don’t make her throw them away. Don’t make her go to the places that make her sad. Don’t make her decorate for the holidays before she’s ready. Understand that holidays, birthdays, and other special occasions will be hard for her. Let her eat leftover spaghetti on Christmas and pretend it’s just another day. Let her stop and stare at the Mother’s Day display with tears in her eyes and a longing in her heart. Don’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. Let her grieve.

Above all, just be there for her.

Hug her. Listen to her. Go easy on her. Send her flowers. Make her a Mother’s Day card from your kids or your dogs. Make her eggs for breakfast. Take her to Panera for lunch. Surprise her with sushi for dinner. Let her buy random things from Amazon and Target. Let her know how much you appreciate her.

Love her.

Just love her.

She needs it more than you know.

She is in a dark and ugly place, but your love will help her find the beauty and the light again.

Give her time. She will learn to laugh again.

She’s still the girl you once knew.

Originally published on the author’s blog

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available for pre-order now!

Pre-Order Now

Lauren Dykovitz

Lauren Dykovitz is a writer and author. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two black labs. Her mom, Jerie, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in 2010 at age 62. Lauren was only 25 years old at the time. Jerie passed away in April 2020 after a ten-year battle with Alzheimer's. Lauren writes about her experience on her blog, Life, Love, and Alzheimer’s. She has also been a contributing writer for several other Alzheimer’s blogs and websites. Lauren self-published her first book, Learning to Weather the Storm: A Story of Life, Love, and Alzheimer's. She is also a member of AlzAuthors, a group of authors who have written books about Alzheimer’s and dementia. Please visit lifeloveandalzheimers.com to read more about Lauren’s journey.

To the Friend Who Just Lost a Parent: It’s Going to Hurt and You’re Going to Grow

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Sad woman hands over face

Oh, the inevitable, as we age into our mid to late 30s and beyond. The natural series of life states that losing a parent will become more commonplace as we, ourselves, continue to age, and I am beginning to see it among my circle of friends. More and more parents passing, and oh, my heart. My whole heart aches and fills with pain for my friends, having experienced this myself three years ago.  It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt more than you could expect. The leader of your pack, the glue, the one you turn to when you...

Keep Reading

Your Brother Is With Jesus Now

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Brother and sister in yellow outfits smiling on park bench

“Thao is with Jesus now,” we told her, barely choking out the whisper. Jesus. This invisible being we sing about. Jesus. The baby in the manger? Jesus. How can we explain Jesus and death and loss and grief to a 3-year-old? And now, how can we not? We live it, breathe it, and dwell in loss since the death of her brother, our son, Thao. Here we are living a life we never wanted or dreamed of. Here we are navigating loss and death in a way our Creator never intended. What words can I use to describe death to...

Keep Reading

Don’t Delete the Picture You Think You Look Bad In

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Woman holding phone with picture of her and daughter, color photo

Don’t delete the picture—the one you look bad in. I said it. You heard me. Don’t delete the picture, that picture—you know the one, the one with the double chin or the bad angle. The picture that is not so flattering. The picture that accentuates your forehead lines or the one taken next to your skinny best friend. We are all so hard on ourselves. Many of us are striving for a better complexion or a thinner physique. Sometimes scrutinizing ourselves and zooming in on a picture—seeing things the world does not see. Don’t delete the picture. RELATED: Take the...

Keep Reading

Things that Hurt and Things that Help after Someone You Love Has a Miscarriage

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
young woman with arms crossed across stomach

I am sadly no stranger to pregnancy loss. Out of seven pregnancies, I have been blessed with one beautiful boy on earth, one miracle currently growing inside of me, and five precious angels in Heaven. As a result, I have plenty of experience in dealing with the aftermath of miscarriage. During this period of intense grief and loss, I have had many well-meaning people tell me things they believed would make me feel better, but in reality, caused me pain. Additionally, I have had close friends pull away during this period of time, and later tell me it was because...

Keep Reading

Even When You Can’t Find Joy, Jesus Is There

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Sad woman through pane of rain covered glass

The international church service was vibrant with voices lifted up in songs of praise. Many clapped their hands and some even danced before God. But I wanted to be invisible. Joy felt like a land depicted in a fairy tale. I had returned from the hospital the day before—a surgery to remove the baby who had died in my womb. Watching this church buzz with happiness unearthed my fragileness. I slouched in my chair and closed my eyes. Tears trickled down my freckled face. My mind knew God was in control, but my heart ached as yet another thing I...

Keep Reading

He Mends Our Broken Hearts

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Praying hands of woman with bracelets

Rays of soft sunlight streamed through the curtain onto the hospital bed. I stepped to the edge of the bed, taking a moment to soak in his face before gently holding his hand. Eighty-nine years is a rich, full life, and each passing day revealed more convincingly it was time for him to go. Grief and relief shared the space in my heart as I carried the weight of understanding each visit held the opportunity to be my last.  When he felt my hand, his eyes opened, and he gifted me a smile. Pop Pop always had a smile for...

Keep Reading

This Is As Close to Heaven As I Can Get

In: Grief, Loss
Sunrise over the ocean, color photo

I have sat here a million times over my life—on good days, on bad days, with friends, with family. I have celebrated my highest points and cried here at my lowest. I am drawn here, pulled in a way. When I have not been here in some time, the sea calls my soul home. My soul is at peace here. It has always been. Maybe it is the tranquility of the waves, or the sun shining on my face. Maybe it is the solitude I find here. I love her (the sea) in all seasons, when she is calm, when...

Keep Reading

10 Things Bereaved Parents Want You to Know about Child Loss

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Sad couple hug in hallway

My first baby died. After a perfect full-term pregnancy, she was stillborn. That was 10 years ago. Ten years I’ve spent wondering who she would have been. Ten years I’ve spent missing someone I hoped to know but never got the chance to. In those ten years, I’ve learned so much about grief, love, and life.  Grief is love. When they laid my stillborn daughter’s cold and lifeless body in my arms, my world was broken into before this nightmare began and after, where I was forever cursed to live with it. I thought I would never be the same...

Keep Reading

“He’s Gone.”

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Bride dancing with her father, color photo

That heart-wrenching moment when I received that phone call—the one that completely shattered life as I knew it. “He’s gone,” two words that brought me to my knees, screaming and crying. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t put into words what I was thinking or feeling, I was broken. Time slowed to a snail’s pace, it seemed like it took hours to arrive, and when we did, reality still didn’t sink in. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, we were supposed to have more time, way more time with him.  I’m too young to lose my dad, my kids...

Keep Reading

I Never Wanted to Be a Hospital Mom

In: Cancer, Motherhood
Toddler standing with IV pole, black-and-white photo

Life as a hospital mom is not a life for just anyone. You have no other choice, there is no get-out-free card you can just put down and say, “Nope, Lord, I do not want this, take it back.” My heart hurts 99 percent of the time. My heart hurts for my child and the pain he is suffering. A necessary evil to keep him on the side of Heaven’s gates.  My heart hurts from the unknown of each day. Will he eat? Will he thrive today? What utter chaos will be thrown our way today? Will there be vomit...

Keep Reading