I was at a gas station in Oklahoma, on my way to take my kids to the Grand Canyon, when I received an unexpected call from my sister: my dad had suffered a stroke. I tried to hide my tears from the children, but devastation is hard to conceal. Slumping back into the car, I felt a rush of emotions; I’d been so immersed in my role as a mother that I’d forgotten I was still a child in this world. The days when I hung on my father’s every word felt distant. As a busy mom focused on my own family, I often left my dad’s calls and texts unanswered.
I wrestled with whether to continue our trip or fly back home. As we drove past sprawling cattle farms and rolling tumbleweeds, I felt trapped, desperately searching for updates on my dad’s condition. The moment I lost cell reception, I felt even more isolated. My sister’s message, “It’s not good, Jamie. I’m heading there now,” left me staring blankly out the window for the next four hours. I thought about how much time I’d missed with my dad, especially during the pandemic when we had all been so cautious.
We didn’t make it to the Grand Canyon. I realized that continuing on would mean losing all contact with my siblings. Albuquerque became our next stop, the nearest airport. I stepped out of the car, feeling defeated, and walked to the hotel room. Once inside, I sat on the bed and booked my flight home. In that moment, I sensed it might be my last chance to say goodbye.
As I approached the hospital, I felt overwhelmed by memories of being my father’s child. I was filled with both adoration and sorrow. Angry at the situation, I mentally listed all the things he could no longer do—walk, eat, or talk. I worried he might not even recognize me or remember our shared experiences. My vision of a future with him seemed to fade as I entered the Intensive Care Unit (ICU).
However, something unexpected happened when I entered his ICU room. I shed my insecurities and fears and shifted into “mom mode.” It’s that instinctive strength mothers tap into when their loved ones need them most. It’s not an easy transition; it’s incredibly challenging, but somehow we find a way to be what our families require.
As I reached my dad’s bedside, I smiled, relieved to see recognition in his eyes. We both cried together. I wasn’t ready to take on the role of caregiver to my parent, but my experience as a mother equipped me for this journey.
In the hospital, I supported my dad through therapy as he learned to walk, eat, and talk again—and he did. I took comfort in my maternal skills: adjusting his blanket, spoon-feeding him until he could manage on his own, applying lotion to his hands, and reminding him it was time for a nap. I patiently encouraged him to speak during our FaceTime calls. The first time he said, “Hi,” it came out as a joyful, repeated “Hi! Hi! Hi!” His speech improved, and those moments felt as significant as witnessing my children’s first milestones—watching my dad walk again and having our first meaningful conversation over the phone.
Being there for my dad during his time of need became one of my life’s most beautiful and challenging experiences. I may not have been prepared to parent my parent, but motherhood had given me the confidence to navigate this difficult chapter.
My ability to care for both my children and my parents has remained strong. For a time, I forgot that I was still someone’s child. Motherhood doesn’t erase our role as children; instead, it allows us to apply those nurturing skills to our parents during the most unexpected and challenging times.
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Summary
The author, Jamie Thompson, shares a deeply personal experience of coping with her father’s stroke while balancing her role as a mother. The transition from being a child to taking care of a parent is explored, highlighting the unexpected skills that motherhood provides in navigating such challenges.