My Mother, My Nurse

My Mother, My Nurse
Mother’s Day was Sunday. I would share my experience as a mother living with Crohn’s disease, but the only babies I’ve had are the four-legged kind. In a way, Crohn’s affected my choice not to have children. When I received my diagnosis, I was recently divorced, and dating was far from my mind. By the time I achieved remission and was physically and emotionally ready to get back into a relationship, I was 37, and my biological clock was ticking. I remarried in 2016, a few months shy of my 43rd birthday, and between my age and all the medications I was on — not to mention that any possible pregnancy would be high-risk — motherhood was no longer an option. So, instead of writing about being a mother living with a chronic disease, I’m going to write about how my mother handled my Crohn’s diagnosis. I am totally a mommy’s girl. Maybe it’s because I’m the baby of the family, but I never ceased to allow my mom to mother me, unlike my two older sisters who were always more independent. If the maternal bond wasn’t enough to influence my mother’s care for me as I struggled with IBD, the fact that she was a registered nurse made her even more protective and a stronger advocate for my healthcare. This came out especially during my first hospitalization in 2006, when I received my Crohn’s diagnosis. When my older sister took me to the emergency room with a 103-degree fever, we decided to wait to call our parents. They lived six and a half hours away in Oklahoma City, and we didn't want them to make an unnecessary trip. Once I was admitted though, we called them, and my mom took the first flight out. By the time she arrived at the hospital, I had been moved to ICU because my blood pressure h
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