💜 WHO'S TAKING CARE OF MOM?

The Invisible Losses

There are losses in caregiving that nobody sends flowers for.

There’s no funeral.

No sympathy cards.

Sometimes the person you love is sitting right beside you.

And yet, something has been lost.

I think about Mom.

She didn’t wake up one morning and decide, Today I become a caregiver.

It happened slowly.

One responsibility at a time.

One appointment.

One reminder.

One sleepless night.

One thing Dad could no longer manage became something Mom needed to manage.

And then another.

And another.

Until somewhere along the way, being his wife also meant being his caregiver.

That comes with losses people don't always see.

The loss of spontaneity.

The loss of Intimacy

The loss of simply walking out the door without planning ahead.

The loss of uninterrupted sleep.

The loss of shared responsibilities.

The loss of conversations that aren't interrupted by confusion.

The loss of being able to assume your partner will remember what you just discussed.

The loss of some of the plans you imagined for this chapter of your life.

And sometimes…

the loss of simply getting to be the wife.

Because now you're also reminding, reassuring, watching, planning, anticipating, protecting and worrying.

But perhaps there's another invisible part of caregiving that we don't talk about enough.

The thoughts.

The thoughts that show up on the hard days.

The ones you might immediately feel ashamed for having.

“I don't want to do this today.”

“I am so tired of being responsible for everything.”

“Why does everything fall on me?”

“You have other children. Why aren't they helping?”

“Your family can help, too.”

“I just want ONE day when somebody doesn't need something from me.”

Maybe even:

“I don't want to be your caregiver today. I just want to be your wife.”

And then there may come a thought that's even harder to admit:

“There are nursing homes. Maybe I can't keep doing this.”

And almost immediately, guilt answers back.

How could I think that?

What kind of wife thinks that about her husband?

What kind of daughter gets tired of caring for her mother?

What kind of husband needs a break from his wife?

What kind of parent feels exhausted caring for their own child?

So you push the thought away.

Because you love them.

And somehow we've convinced ourselves that if we truly love someone, caregiving shouldn't feel burdensome.

But those two things can exist together.

I love you.

And I'm exhausted.

I'm grateful you're here.

And I miss parts of our old life.

I want to care for you.

And today, I don't want to do this.

I promised I would be here.

And I need somebody to be here for me, too.

Maybe “I don't want to do this today” isn't the same thing as “I don't want you.”

Maybe “somebody else needs to help” isn't abandonment.

Maybe considering respite, home care, additional family help—or even a different level of care—doesn't automatically mean someone has failed.

Maybe sometimes the thought underneath all of those thoughts is simply:

“I can't carry all of this by myself.”

And that's where I think we need to listen.

Because caregiving creates losses that can happen over and over again.

You adjust to one change.

Then something else changes.

You find your new normal.

And then you have to find another one.

So when I ask:

“Who’s taking care of Mom?”

I'm not just asking whether she ate today.

I'm asking:

Who gives her permission to be tired?

Who lets her say the ugly thought without immediately judging her for it?

Who notices when she needs a break before she has to beg for one?

Who reminds her that needing help doesn't erase all the love she's already given?

Who allows her to grieve the things that have changed while still loving the person sitting beside her?

And most importantly:

Who is taking care of the person who has become so accustomed to taking care of everyone else?

Maybe that's where caregiver support begins.

Not by telling caregivers to be stronger.

But by creating a place where they can finally say:

“This is hard.”

“I miss what we had.”

“Sometimes I don't want to do this.”

“I need help.”

And hearing someone answer:

“Okay. Let's talk about that.” 💜

At Antlers Creek Caregiver Foundation, we believe caring for someone also means paying attention to the person standing beside them. We're working to expand respite and companionship, resource and benefits navigation, temporary household assistance, emotional support, and caregiver education.

If this story feels familiar, you don't have to figure everything out alone.

💜 Need help, want to help, volunteer, or support our mission? Visit AntlersCare.org.