The second summer I cared for Mom, she forgot my birthday, even when I gave her broad hints. I was hurt to the core - what mother doesn't remember the day she gave birth to one of her children? I reasoned it out; she had no control over what she did or didn't recall. I accepted that reality and moved through the next stages with her.
I was so afraid that Mom wouldn't remember who I was . . . and one day it happened. She had no name for me, but still seemed to know I was her daughter, or at least knew that I was related to her. Her trust in me was still there. I'll never forget that moment when it sunk in - I no longer had a name in Mom's mind. It had vanished along with so many other short and long-term memories.
Acceptance is your friend. Welcome and embrace it for it will give you the gift of peace.
I cared for Mom for seven years and learned so much from my experiences with her and Alzheimer's.