When I first started caring for my mother and discussing with friends about the challenges of caring for her at home, the ones who had children would often look at me with sympathetic expressions and say, “It is kind of like having kids isn’t it? They just take over you life. It is so hard!”

Having never had children, this comment always created a feeling in me that was a mix of confusion and inadequacy. It sometimes made me feel inept, that I never experienced the personal sacrifices others went through as they raised their children that, according to these friends, would have better prepared me for the ones I am making today. Like somehow having kids would have made me a seasoned caregiver with better tools to do the job I am doing with my mom.

Then one day, when someone with children repeated that common refrain of similarities between caring for kids and moms with dementia, I looked a them and commented, “Well I never had children but I imagine much of the work that you get with them is accompanied with a tremendous amount of joy.” When she gave me a quizzical look, I went on to explain that most of what I witness with my mother is a loss of ability, memories and functions. There is no celebration of new lessons learned and joy in watching her experience new things. It is mostly  witnessing a slow decline. So the work is never the reward of watching someone grow into a new person but the loss of one. With that cheerful contrast we both laughed and agreed having children is definitely more fun.

Now two and one half years into living with and my mother and dealing with her  Alzheimer’s, I have come to realize that caring for somebody, whether it is children, parents, spouses (and sometimes dogs)  is a called a labor of love for a reason. One is no greater sacrifice than the others. None is without similarities and differences. Time outside of yourself in the service of others has its joys and its sorrows and they are found in many moments throughout your day.

And so I found one last night as I was helping my mother dress for bed. I was pulling her shirt over her head and it got stuck. We laughed and she commented “It is like having to dress a baby. But you don’t know what that is.” I was surprised and replied, “Good memory Mom. You remembered that I didn’t have children.” We pulled the shirt off her head and she looked and me and said, “How sad.” I smiled and replied, “Yes it is a regret. But you had kids do you remember that? Did you enjoy it?” Mom said in a voice full of emotion, “Yes it was so wonderful.” She looked up at me as she sat on the edge of her bed, and with a far away look in her eyes she smiled and said, “It was my life!”