California Momma's Pages

Friday, April 9, 2010


My Dad and Mom
Steve and Yolanda

Being new to the “Blog World”, I had to sit back and think about what it is that I could write that another mom blogger has not already wrote about. Then, after thinking for a minute, that’s when I decided, it did not matter if another mom blogger had already wrote a million posts about anything I had wanted to write. No one would write the way I would; no one could write and have my point of view. That was all I needed to push me and motivate me to go forward with my blog.
        So in order for my readers, (speaking positively!), to fully understand how I got to be this wonderful person I am. =). I figured its best to go over the things in my life that have shaped and molded me, regardless if it was good or bad.
        So if you are ready, buckle up because it’s definitely a bumpy ride!
        I’ve written about my son and going through all that at 19 years of age. That makes someone grow up real fast. Luckily I had already graduated High School and had very supportive parents. My mom was my #1 fan and advocate. She made things happen for me.
        She bought a small house for me and my son and my son’s dad. During this transition, when my son was almost 2 years old and had already went through 2 surgeries, I decided to go back to school. And 18 months later I had graduated 3rd in my class, passed my state Bar Exams, got lessened, and was able to work at any hospital wanted.  I was a Licensed Respiratory Therapist. I was working for a small sub-acute facility that was for kids.  So basically I was surrounded by children who all had tubes in their trachea's just to breathe and 80% were on a ventilator, and all because of some result of abuse, neglect, near drowning or birth defects. It put my life and what I was going through with my own son into perspective.
I saw things much clearly and realized, as hard as it was and as heart breaking and as scary for me,  to have my son sick and not knowing if he would ever get better.  At least he was home and he could breathe on his own and he could talk and laugh and live a life full of possibilities.
He wasn’t some place like where I worked and I honestly had to lock myself in the bathroom my first day at work and cry. I cried because I was so grateful and I cried because I felt bad that I felt that way.
        During the Christmas Season in 1999, my mom was feeling sick.
On a Sunday afternoon, my sisters and I met up at the house we all grew up in, the house my parents still lived in. We were doing our annual tradition of making tamales for Christmas Eve dinner. We did it every year. Only this time, my mom wasn’t there at the head of the table. She was feeling too sick to even get out of bed, which was definitely not like her. We all knew she was sick and even though we all knew that she had Lupus, it was never something that kept her from her family. To my mom, her family was all she ever needed. She loved having us all there. Her 4 daughters had all grown up and each with their own individual families.  Her grand kids she spoiled like only grandma could.
        Later that evening, we all realized that it was more serious then we first thought, so we took her to the emergency room at Kaiser, and like we thought, they were going to admit her. Start her on high doses of steroids and around the clock breathing treatments. So we left her there with my dad by her side.
        Around 3 P.M. the following day, I receive a call from my dad, telling me to call my sisters and get to the hospital, because it didn’t look too good. I couldn’t focus, and my son’s dad, Mark, made the calls for me and drove me to the hospital.
        In a way, I feel so blessed and lucky because I was the only one to see her before she was taken into the ICU and put on life support. I got to hear her last words ever clearly spoken. I can still see and hear that moment so clearly. I walked into the room and there she was. My mother was sitting up on the bed, each hand grasping the side rails, with clenched fists, like she was holding on for dear life. She was obviously struggling for each breath as her whole body would move up and down, trying to get as much air and oxygen into her as she could. She had her eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing. She had a %100 non-re-breather mask on her, hiding the rest of her face.
        As soon as I saw her, I broke down into tears and rushed to her side. I grabbed her hand and she opened her eyes and looked at me, with no hint of sadness in here eyes. She smiled at me and looked concerned at my expression. She grabbed my hand and told me. “Don’t worry about me; I’m going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
        At that exact moment, the nurses came in and wheeled her into ICU. They had to take her in there before they intubated her and put her on a ventilator. She smiled again, put her mask back on and closed her eyes to concentrate on breathing again. I stood back and watched as they took my mom away.
        After about 45 minutes my dad, sisters and I stood beside her bed, she was still sitting up, awake and hooked up to life support. The fact that she was still awake was amazing. Normally people are put to sleep when they are intubated, but my mom was not. She remained awake and tried to communicate with us. She was using hand gestures and then gave up and asked for a pen and paper. She told us all to go home and don’t worry about her. She told me to go to work and that she was just going to rest. She said she was tired and felt that she could finally rest now.
        After a minute, we all did as she asked and left.  Later that night, her heart stopped and a code blue was called on her. The doctors were able to bring her back, but she never regained consciousness.
        Two days later, she was gone. She passed away on December 21, 1999 after a 15 year battle with Lupus.  

This is my mom and dad and me, camping at Carpinteria. I was 5 0r 6

 My dad and me on our way to a softball game.


My mom and our English bulldog, in our backyard.
I can only guess at the year, maybe 1988?

Camping at Carpinteria again, my mom with a Margarita in her hand
Always loving life with her family!

My Mom, holding my son, Jared, at my cousin’s wedding. My dad is sitting next to her. My son was 6 or 7 months old.           
She's been gone for over 10 years and I still miss her like crazy.  All I can do know is make sure here memory goes forward and that my son knows his grandma loved him so much.  
Now it's just my dad and his four girls. My mom is there is all of our hearts and we will never forget her. This is us now. My dad and my sisters, Mother's Day, 2005
         Thanks to everyone who reads this and can get a little something out of it.
Much love and Respect,

1 comment:

Life with Kaishon said...

Oh. This made me cry and cry. I loved the memories of making tamales at christmas. I loved that she believed in you and gave you a great start in life. I am sorry for your loss. So deeply sorry.

Welcome to the world of blogging. I can tell you are a very talented writer. Many blessings.