NYC-Feature Story

Losing Mom
I’m learning to live without my biggest supporter

By Tichina Fields

“What would you do if I wasn’t here?” My mother asked me this one day last year, after I’d put my plate in the sink without even rinsing it. I just looked at her with a bored expression. I was sure that she wasn’t leaving me anytime soon, so I didn’t bother to answer her question.

When I was growing up, I sometimes saw talk shows on TV about kids and teens losing their parents. As I watched, I used to wonder what it would be like to be in their position. Maybe I wondered because the idea of losing my mom was so scary. But I always reassured myself that it wouldn’t happen to me. My mother was just fine. I would never be one of those kids!

Everything to Help Me

I definitely knew that if my mother wasn’t with me, I wouldn’t know what to do. For as long as I could remember, my mother had always been there for me. My father wasn’t around, so it was just us until my brother Christopher was born when I was 9. As a single mother, she did her best to take care of me. Even though there were people who could babysit me, my mother always took care of me herself. She would take me everywhere with her. Because of this, we became very close.

Not long after I was born, I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, and the doctors were sure that I wouldn’t be able to walk. My mother refused to believe them, and she did everything she could to help me. She paid to have therapists come to our house so I could receive physical therapy. Eventually, I walked. I was only about 2, but I can remember the big smile on my mom’s face as I walked to her.

Once I started school, I wasn’t learning to read on time and my walking was different from everyone else’s, so they put me in a special education class. At first, I didn’t mind—as a matter of fact, I didn’t even notice it was a special class. However, one day, kids from other classes in the school began to say rude things to me and I didn’t know why.

A Mother’s Comfort

I can still remember walking through the colorful halls to my class, only to hear a kid shout, “Special Ed, you’re so dumb!” My happy mood would be ruined by their comments and I would be sad all day. The teasing got worse over time. I tried not to let them get to me, but I’ve always been sensitive, so ignoring it wasn’t working.

One day, I was in the schoolyard minding my own business when some kids pushed me down. They ran away laughing as I lay on the ground in tears. When I got home from school, I was still upset about it. I walked through the door, ran straight to my room and crawled on my bed, sobbing into my pillow.

As I cried, it was as if time stood still for me. I felt so hurt and isolated that I didn’t notice anything else.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see my mother. She asked me what was wrong and I hesitated to tell her. She simply said: “I thought we were comfortable with each other. Please don’t hide things from me.” I immediately felt guilty and told her everything.

She just hugged me and comforted me as I cried. Then she looked at me and said: “You’re not dumb. You’re Tichina Fields, and I’ll always believe in you even if no one else does. You’re no different from anybody else; never forget that.”

Seriously Wrong

Her words calmed me down. Even if it was hard to ignore people who put me down, it felt good to know that my mother accepted me no matter what. At that moment, I truly believed that she would always be with me.

But in June 2008, I learned I was wrong about that. It was a sunny day. I was excited about school because it was almost summer vacation and we were doing absolutely nothing in class. This day was unusual from the start because my mom didn’t come to wake me up. I got up on my own for once, and headed down the hallway.

I saw my mother in her bed. It looked like she was in pain. I frowned, because I knew why. About a week earlier, she’d hurt her leg. As the week went on, it had gotten worse. She lost her appetite and her leg got so painful that she couldn’t get around. She’d had to take time off from her new job as a home attendant, and I’d been helping her out.

Today she looked worse. I saw her try to get up from bed, and then she said she couldn’t walk. She told me to get her office chair with wheels, and she also said that I had to take my brother Christopher downstairs to the school bus.

I did as she said, and was planning on heading to school myself after that, but I had to go back upstairs because I’d forgotten something. When I walked through the door, my mother was on the couch and I could tell she was in terrible pain. When she told me to stay home from school, I knew something was seriously wrong.

Starting to Panic

The next few minutes went by fast. She began to have trouble breathing and she started to cry with pain that she described as a burning sensation. I brought her the phone and she called 911. As we waited for the ambulance to come, I looked out of my bedroom window. Everything was the same outside; the sun was still out and kids were playing across the street, but that didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t believe this was happening, and I was starting to panic. I calmed myself down by listening to my iPod, telling myself she would be fine.

The ambulance came and we went to the hospital. As the paramedics talked to the doctors, I went to my mother on the stretcher and asked her how she was feeling. She didn’t respond. I asked again, and there was still no answer. The doctors noticed it, and in the next second my mother was rushed off somewhere else, surrounded by doctors. I ran after them with tears in my eyes. I wanted to know where they were taking her.

A nurse told me to sit down somewhere. I did as she said. I’d called my aunt before we’d left for the hospital, and she’d told me my Uncle Marcus was coming to join me. I sat there crying and scared, my heart breaking every second.

Shattered Heart

Pretty soon my uncle arrived, and the doctor went to talk to him. Then my uncle and I met a preacher, and we held hands and prayed for my mother. When the prayer was over, my uncle had tears in his eyes. Before I could ask why, the nurse told me my mother was gone. (Later they did an autopsy and the only conclusion they could draw was that she’d died of septicemia, a rare and serious infection.)

I started sobbing into her shoulder. My heart was shattered. It had really happened, my mother really had passed away, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye, it was so sudden. At that moment, no words could make me feel better. For the first time in my life, I truly felt alone.

Not Here

In the months since then, my loneliness has lessened a little. But I still feel it sometimes. When I think about Mother’s Day, for example, I feel sad because my mom is no longer here. Sometimes when I hear some of the songs she liked, the loneliness comes back and I miss her more.

Other times, I feel like my mom’s spirit is nearby. That actually makes things more painful for me, because I’m already having problems dealing with the fact that she’s not here. When her spirit feels near, I start to think she’ll come back. When I realize she can’t, I get all upset and start crying.

After my mom died, I went to live with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. I soon saw that things in their house were different. My mother had done everything for me, so I had no idea how to do a lot of things. But about a month after I moved into my aunt’s house, I started learning about chores.

Learning Independence

One of the chores I learned first was washing dishes. My mother had had a dishwasher, so I’d never worried about that. But my aunt didn’t, so I had to learn to wash dishes by hand. At first, I didn’t know how to do it right, but my cousins showed me the right way.

I also had to learn to take care of my brother, Christopher. When he was about 2 years old, Christopher was diagnosed with autism, a mental condition that affects his brain. Because of this, he can’t chew well, he’s in a special class, and he can’t really enjoy things the way other kids do because his emotions are a little different. I never got the chance to learn how to care for him because my mother did everything for him. Now, I’m learning how to do things for him, like make his oatmeal in the morning.

At first, I felt like I would be a burden to my aunt and uncle because I didn’t know how to do chores. But living with them has taught me a lot, and I’m willing to learn all I can. I feel like I’ve grown up a little bit, and I think my mother would be proud of my independence.

I also think my mother would be happy that I have a roof over my head, and that I’m with my family instead of in a foster home.

Her Support Continues

But it still isn’t the same as living with my mom. When she was alive, we did so many fun things together and shared so many memories. I miss how we would go shopping and visit the Bronx Zoo all the time. I still do fun things with my cousins—I often play video games with them, and last summer, my aunt and uncle took us to Rye Playland, which was fun. But time spent with anyone else isn’t the same as the time I spent with her.

And even though my family supports and encourages me, I still miss my mom’s support. I never gave up on things because I knew she was cheering for me. She once told me that she was so happy with my accomplishments because she’d thought she might not see me grow up. The doctors had told her I wouldn’t make it to my first birthday. I did, and she was thankful for that and for everything that came afterward.

When my mother asked me what I would do without her, I didn’t want to think about it. But since that day at the hospital last June, I’ve had to think about it, because I don’t have her to depend on anymore. I have to learn to do more things for myself and be more independent emotionally, too.

This is challenging, but I know it will help me be more successful when I grow up. And when I remember how she used to believe in me, I realize that she would want me to do well whether she’s here or not. This makes me more ready and determined to face any challenge.

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