Jessica’s Story
In February 2015, I found out I was expecting my 2nd son and I was absolutely thrilled. During this same timeframe, my Mom had been having stomach issues and hadn’t been feeling well for months. Her doctor recommended several items to be removed from her diet, until she was put on an all-liquid diet. My Mom had had enough and asked for something to be done. Late one afternoon, she was given an endoscopy and my Dad waited at the hospital for her. He asked us not to stay, that he would give us an update the next morning.
It was a Friday morning in April and I was in the drive-thru line at Starbucks. My dad called my sister and I. He stared talking and couldn’t get the words out because he was crying… the man that I had never seen cry in my entire life, was crying over the phone and I knew things weren’t good. My Mom got on the phone and said that her pancreas had a tumor and it is most likely cancer. She still had her cheerful voice and was protecting us with her typical motherly fashion. After we talked, all I could think about was the doctor telling my dad as he sat there alone.
Later that month, it was confirmed, it was pancreatic cancer and it was terminal. She still started treatment immediately because if she didn’t try, then she wasn’t trying. She was still working until the end of summer, she said she felt silly sitting at home when she didn’t feel “too” bad. The chemotherapy started to drain her. We all took turns taking her to appointments and helping her adjust to this new way of life. I think in the back of all of our minds, she would be a miracle and the treatment would work.
While my Mom was dealing with the hardest chapter in her life, I was growing a new life. My son was predicted to arrive at the end of September. Right away, my dad exclaimed how exciting it would be if my son was born on my Mom’s birthday, September 11th. My mom quickly explained that that day was a terrible day in history and she just wanted him to be born healthy. The day before my Mom’s birthday, my dad took her down to San Diego since that was one of our favorite family vacation spots. Her appetite had dwindled quite a bit and her pain still relevant so I think she took the trip just to appease my Dad. Later that day, my Mom called to check on me and I announced that my water broke. She said she knew this would happen and said that they would leave now. I assured her that my contractions were not strong and to wait until the morning. The next morning, my son was born and my parents made it right in time to meet him. I was overjoyed that my Mom and son now shared a birthday.
I went on maternity leave from that day in September to January and it was amazing to spend that time with my mom. She was able to bond with my new baby and I could be with her at all of her doctor’s appointments. I didn’t realize how special those few months would be until now. I was able to find an in-home daycare center that was less than 5 minutes from my parents’ home, which made it easy to stop by to say hi each morning. My Mom and I use to talk on the phone daily but she would get out of breath quickly so stopping by her house was the best way to chat. Weekdays and weekends quickly ran into each other as we all found ourselves spending more and more time around our parents’ house. We would help clean and taught our Dad how to do laundry. We use to frequent eating out but since our Mom was not feeling well, we began rotating meals that we would make there for anyone who came by.
My Mom was in and out of the hospital for the last few months. Her pain was high and the medication just made her sleep. She even lost so much weight that her tailbone began throbbing because it was so exposed. We knew she was moving into her final stages. It seemed surreal, we were talking openly about her memorial service and what she wanted, including the songs. I didn’t believe it because I still needed my mom. We started looking through photo albums and pulling out pictures for the service. My Mom was in her bed napping and she caught me trying to be quiet while I was sneaking into her closet. She told me to come over and chat, little did I know that would be the last time we would talk. The next morning, 6 a.m. on a Saturday, I received the call I had been dreading, my Dad on the other line said, “you need to come say goodbye to your Mom”. I flew down the road and barely remember driving there. I walked in and heard sobbing. I ran to my parents’ room to see my sisters and my Dad huddled around the bed, she was already gone. My sisters and I talked months later about that day and we thought she was still alive while we were driving there. My Mom was given one year to live and she died in 10 months, she was 56 years old.
