Understanding the Experience of Loving Someone with Dementia

Introduction

Loving someone with dementia is an emotional journey filled with a range of complex feelings. The experience can often feel like a continuous cycle of heartache and confusion, as the nature of the illness transforms the relationship.

Stage One: Denial

The cycle often begins with denial. When I receive a call from my sister, asking, “Have you spoken to Mom?” I brace myself for the answer I don’t want to hear. “Yes,” I reply hesitantly, before asking, “What’s wrong?” She explains that Mom seems “off.” I respond with a lie, “I haven’t noticed anything different.” After hanging up, I go about my day, attempting to distract myself from the reality of her condition. I smile and engage with my children, all the while battling the urge to confront the truth of my mother’s illness.

Stage Two: The High

Then, the phone rings again. It’s Mom. I want to decline the call but can’t bring myself to do it. As I answer, she bursts forth with energy, “You’re coming to see me for Spring Break, right?” Her excitement feels like a fleeting glimpse of the mother I once knew, but it’s a façade. She rambles about cleaning and organizing, painting a picture of normalcy that contrasts sharply with the chaotic reality of her life. I listen, hurt but compelled to support her, even as I brace for the inevitable crash that follows her highs.

Stage Three: Anger

However, the cycle takes a darker turn when anger surfaces. Her calls become filled with accusations and hurtful words, things the Mom I knew would never say. She lashes out, often referencing private conversations I had with my siblings about her care. The stress of the illness has turned her into someone unrecognizable, and I find myself caught in the middle of her emotional turmoil, trying to reassure her while grappling with my own pain.

Stage Four: The Absence

And then, there are days when “Mom” doesn’t flash across my screen at all. On my birthday, I anticipate her usual recounting of my birth—our shared moment—only to find that she’s forgotten. It stings deeply, not just because she has lost the memory, but because it feels like another part of her has slipped away. I tell myself this is due to her illness, and while I understand, it doesn’t lessen the ache of loss.

I often find solace in old cards and notes from her, reminders of who she was before dementia took over. One such note, a simple message, brings comfort: “Sure do miss you so much. Love, Mom.” It’s these fragments of her past that help me cope with the present.

Conclusion

Loving someone with dementia is a tumultuous journey, filled with denial, fleeting moments of joy, anger, and profound loss. The emotional toll can be overwhelming, but it’s crucial to remember that behind the illness is still the person we love.

If you’re interested in exploring options for home insemination, you can find valuable resources on sites like Make a Mom and UCSF’s IVF resource. For more insights into related topics, check out this blog post.