Parent Adult Child Communication, so Important in Family Crisis
I, a typical mother, always cared about how my children felt and were doing in the world. Respect for them as people separate from myself was always a guideline I used when talking with them. As they grew to adulthood this communication approach persisted, but my timing, attitude, voice and choice of words had to shift. They will always be my “children”, but they are now independent adults with families of their own. They no longer need or wish to hear from “mommy.”
I think it was when my husband, their father, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that I became acutely aware of the importance of our communication as we needed to manage the emotional journey that would end our family as we knew it.
My husband and I were sitting in the emergency room at George Washington Hospital to get a CT scan and blood test needed by his doctor. My husband was “yellow” and had severe stomach pain. I texted both kids sharing the current situation. I would keep them updated. No need to do anything now.
After three hours of waiting during which my husband had googled other hospitals in the area about ER wait times, we left GW and went to one in Reston. We were seen immediately for intake, but they couldn’t do a CT scans there, so sent us to another ER connected with Fairfax Hospital.
By now I had sent several text updates with no meaningful medical information. Our son in New York called and said he could come down. I thanked him but “no, no need now.”
At Fairfax the doctor, who clearly missed the course on TLC communication, seemingly yelled at my husband. “Do you realize that your… blood count is… (extremely high whatever it was) and you have a mass on your pancreas? You have pancreatic cancer.”
“Couldn’t it be something else?” I desperately queried.
“It could be, but it isn’t,” responded the robotic doc. “He needs to stay in the hospital for further tests.”
I called our kids. Our son said, “I’m coming. I will be there as soon as I can tonight.” My daughter—a mom of three, the youngest just three months, asked,” Mom, what’s happening now.” I said, “I’m going home to feed the dogs, get a few things and then back to the hospital to stay with Dad.” She replied, “No, stay with Dad. Make a list of what you need send it to me. I will take care of the dogs. I’ll see you at the hospital.”
They were so “present” for me and their dad on that first horrible day and throughout the whole ten weeks of hell. We shared thoughts, discussed treatment options, test results, next step plans, hospice, funeral, burial, obituary, and distribution of his personal belongings. Always sharing with each other and of course, while my husband was still alive, no decision was ever made without first talking with him. Respectful love.
This response and support (which still brings tears to my eyes) didn’t just happen. It is what they acquired in our home, from friends and learned themselves about communicating with people you love but also people period.
Now as a widow, my relationship with our children remains of profound importance to me but our relationships have changed. While I keenly feel the absence of my wonderful partner of 42 years, they are not his substitute; nor, are they meant to be. I feel strongly that they have their own families, their own lives—careers, friends, interests which need not include their mother. How do I talk to them now as a widow, still their mother– a person of many opinions? It’s a challenge because the situation is different from when their father was my confident and support. Now he is gone. Are my children the ones to step into that role? No, I don’t think so. Maybe on occasion when I need clarity or advice which I feel requires objectivity. But, I do not wish to add to their responsibilities. An adjustment again which I will figure out but know that timing and words in conversations always need to be with respectful love.
Losing a life partner and beloved husband in the space of just ten weeks has got to be very, very difficult. Having known you dear husband, I have an idea of just how much you miss him. He had a badass sense of humor and a vast knowledge of things, people and history. He was fun.
Thank you for chronicling some of your journey.
Parent/Child communication is hard! I came from a family where you were silent, you didn’t question and you certainly wouldn’t share anything with your parent that might make them angry or get you into trouble. I did my best to make my kids feel they could come to me or my husband about anything. Each child being different, there were varying degrees of what was comfortable for them as far as conversations. My husband and I often tried to open the door to family conversations and hope they would feel free to take part, especially when family decisions had to be made or there were situations going on that needed their awareness. Today, as our children have reached adulthood, our chats are more open and free. That’s not to say there aren’t many disagreements. It’s hard as a parent to not respond to them as if they are still the child. I catch myself sometimes. I have to remember they have their own lives and to respect that.
Since you have become a widow, I’m sure your children have a sense of having to look after you. That’s only natural and it’s out of love. As we age and perhaps grow a little more dependent on our children, I hope they will respect us as their parent, allow us to remain independent as long as possible and realize the importance of including us in making decisions about our care when such decisions need to be made with their input.
Marian, your comment is wonderful. It touches on so many aspects of the communication challenges and changes parents and children experience. From what I see of your wonderful family, they all deeply love and respect you. All to say your comment contains a lot of wisdom about how to communicate. Thanks for sharing.
We all want our adult children to communicate with, share with and rely on each other, and, ultimately, collaborate and care for us. Deborah’s kids certainly stepped up when her husband, their father, became ill, thanks to all the groundwork Deborah had done to nurture her young family. I just got a facetime call from one of my grandchildren, excited to tell me that she and her 2 siblings (4, 6 and 9) and mom were camping for the weekend. That sort of experience will serve them well. I could not have imagined doing the same. My children are now in 3 different time zones, rooted in their own communities, not readily getting on an airplane with their children to come see me. Of course, I go to them, but that’s delicate too. One positive thing I can mention is that I did care for my aging parents pretty well, despite a difficult childhood, and my kids seem to be honoring that, and honoring my parents, by planning to come together for an interment ceremony that’s a long distance away for all of us. It’s a comforting story; my great-great grandfather purchased the plot where now he, his wife, two children, and soon one grandchild and his wife will remain. I hope that the ceremony will be a good experience for them – – and for me.
Robin, thank you for your kind words re my efforts growing my family. You are an amazing role model to your kids not only as a mother but your kindness to your own very difficult parent.Thank you for your honest comment.
I think it is somewhat different for fathers. Men do not communicate feelings and needs as well as women. I know it is ridiculous, but I believe most of us view such communication as a sign of weakness. We are expected to be tough, so we communicate on a different level. We talk about sports. We talk about fishing. We talk about gardening. We talk about finance. We talk about almost anything but feelings and emotional needs and wants. We do not love our children less. We just love them differently, and the kids seem to understand so that like Deborah’s children, when there is a crisis they step up. So, we get the same result even though the groundwork getting to the result is not the same. Why is one of the many mysteries of parenting.