Stop telling me I'm a saint – I'm just taking care of Mom
By Nancy Schertzing | Photography by Jim Luning

If anyone had told my brothers and sisters I would be the one to care for Mom, they would have laughed out loud! I gave her a real run for her money after Dad died.

I adored my dad! He was handsome and charming and fun. He always told us we could do anything we wanted to do and encouraged all of us – girls included – to go to college. He pushed us to think without color barriers. We put him on a pedestal. When he died, I was devastated.

Now I can see we were pretty oblivious to how hard it must have been for Mom, raising eight kids, nursing my dad through his illness, and caring for Aunt Loretta for 10-plus years. As long as I could remember, Mom was always in the background taking care of us and keeping things running. She wasn’t your typical mother or grandmother. She taught us to be very independent, yet she set an example that in our family we take care of each other.

When people find out I’m caring for my mom, I always hate it when someone tells me I’m a saint. I’m no more a saint than Mom was when she was raising us kids. It’s my mother who needs caring for; why wouldn’t I? When the time came, I was single. My kids were grown and independent. I think it was providence.

Now, to be honest, if in 2002 someone had laid out the next five years and said, “OK, Sharon, this is how it’s gonna be,” I’m afraid I might have said “no.” I have had to mourn the loss of my independence and my house. I have had to do things I never thought I could do for another person. I have seen 23 care-givers come and go because I had to work, but Mom didn’t like strangers in her house.

And I had to let go of my hope that by living with my mom I’d have time to build a closer relationship with her – maybe feel like she loved me. With her stroke and the dementia that followed, I spent the first year realizing I would never get the relationship I wanted, because the woman with me now isn’t my mom.

One of my biggest challenges centered on going to church. I knew if I lived with her, I’d have to take Mom to church every Sunday. It was almost a deal-breaker. I couldn’t lie anymore and tell her I was going when I really wasn’t. And I couldn’t just go out of obligation. I was too old for that. I would have to learn to pray again.

After that very tough first year, I didn’t know if I could live with and care for my mother anymore. Yet I obviously had to keep doing it. I remembered that same terror I felt in the final month of my first pregnancy. I was 17, scared to death, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I had felt trapped back then, and I was feeling trapped again 30 years later.

I remember sitting in church, praying with all my might, “Please help me find an answer for how I’m going to keep doing this, Lord. It’s just too hard and I’m not getting anything out of this.” I was begging.

Then, suddenly, a message came clearly to my mind. “You are not taking care of your mother. You are taking care of me.” I had my answer.

I love that thought! Before I went to live with my mom, my recent lifestyle wasn’t in line with my faith. I didn’t realize what a useless, unimportant life I was living before moving in with her. Now I’m doing something important and so worthwhile!

Things have never been better. All eight of us kids are speaking to each other and doing something different to help with Mom’s care. One of my daughters and my retired brother-in-law come in to care for her during the day.
While I never got a deep relationship with the mother I grew up with, I now have someone who has come to appreciate hugs and saying “love you.” In the last five years, she has come a long way in accepting our care. I can’t tell you how moving it was when I walked up to her bed during a hospital stay and she reached out her arms and said, “Will you give me a hug?” I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.

I don’t know how we got to the point in our society where if we don’t know what to do with our elderly we just get rid of them. I know my mom didn’t always love taking care of me for the 17 years she did. But she was always there for me and my brothers and sisters. She also always set an example of caring for family, and she has always expected that her children would take care of her when the time came.

I think she asked me because she knew I would do it. Every day, I worry I’m not doing a good enough job. I guess we’re always hardest on ourselves. But I love my mom! Looking back, I think she’s the one I should have had on that pedestal all along.

Catholic Charities is a ministry supported by the DSA
If you are caring for a loved one who is suffering from Alzheimer’s or another form of dementia, and need respite care, call your local Catholic Charities agency. They can help you or direct you to someone who can help.
• Catholic Charities of Lenawee 517.263.2191
• Catholic Social Services of Washtenaw County 734.971.9781
• Catholic Charities of Shiawasee and Genesee Counties 810.232.9950
• Catholic Social Services of Livingston County 517.545.5944
• Catholic Charities of Jackson 517.782.2551
• St. Vincent Catholic Charities, Lansing 517.323.4734