A normal reaction to an abnormal life
In retrospect, most of my childhood was atypical, but it was probably as happy and fun as most others were. But I learned some hard truths at a VERY early age. On the day I was born, the doctors found a tumor in my mom's brain. I can't remember a time when I didn't know about Mom's tumor/didn't know Mom was sick.
When I was four I woke up to the sound of my just-home-from-the-hospital baby sister screaming at the top of her lungs. I'd heard her cry before, obviously, but this was different. I got up and left my room. I saw Mom laying on the kitchen floor. I thought... well, I BELIEVE I thought my mom had dropped my sister on the floor and was down there trying to pick her back up. I ran in to help/see what was going on/for some reason and saw that Mom was shaking, drooling on the floor, making noises like she was about to vomit. Her eyes were wide open, but she didn't respond when I walked up to her. My sister was next to her, face up and wailing.
That's all I remember about the scene. The next thing I remember is sitting on the couch in the living room. My mom walked out of my sister's room, looking and sounding more tired than I had ever seen her. She asked if I had wet the bed and I tried to tell her she fell and dropped my sister in the kitchen. She looked confused and said something else about potty training, then went to bed.
Memory goes blank again until my dad comes home. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I was still sitting on the couch. Dad goes in to check on my sister, then comes out and asks why she was sleeping in the baby-doll crib. I say that I put her there after Mom fell in the kitchen. (Mom told me later that she woke up in my sister's crib. I can't remember, but my dad still believes that I put Mom there, too).
Dad rushes to check on Mom and I think he calls someone to watch my sister and I while he takes Mom to the hospital. When they come home, they apologize and tell me what a great job I did. Then they teach me how to dial 911 in case anything like that happens again.
Now, I know that's not normal (I HOPE that's not normal) but at the time I thought it was. I remember telling people that I learned to dial 911 after Mom had a seizure. The only thing that upset me was that I didn't know how to use the phone before it happened. I thought that that was the REASON kids were taught how to dial 911. So they could do something in case any of their parents had something bad happen to them.
Since my mom died, I've been thinking about these things a lot, and it's been hard to accept that my life really was that depressing. I remember being sad a lot, and scared, but mostly I remember having fun going with Mom to get her blood work done. Looking forward to taking trips to the hospital with her. Mom made it fun for my sister and I. It's only now, looking back, that it scares me.
So, now that you have some context, here's my question;
Am I reacting to my abnormal childhood in a normal way?