I would occupy myself with my dancing. I would car-pool with my friends Berklee Moss and Malece Miller everyday after school. Malece was an amazing friend and there was never a day that she didn't put a smile on my face and make me laugh. She has a sparkle in her eye and laughs like a 3 year old. A dance trip with her and Hailee Payne to Vegas that year was just medication I needed. Dancing was my therapy. I was able to let everything out without being judged or stared at. Yes, all of the dancers knew about my situation, but they could careless. If I was feeling emotional the studio was the one place I felt safe to cry during a dark improv session and it was completely normal. My dance family saved me. My choreographers understood what I was going through and were there for me every step of the way. I wouldn't have survived without my passion for dance.
Those dragging 2 weeks went by and I began to fear the worst for my mom and our family. As I have learned, my instincts are almost always right. 7 tumors were found on my moms brain. A single dime sized malignant tumor on her left frontal lobe, and 6 pin-head sized scattered throughout the top of her brain. I was devastated. I felt like my world was ending, because in all reality, it was. I was about to be handed the keys to the once shiny castle, only to have it crumble under my scepter. I was about to become the woman of the house at 14 years old. I would be forced at raise my younger brother. Take on 30+ hours of work at the age of 15, continue dancing, and maintain a perfect GPA, because that's exactly what mom would expect of me. The months from October-December are very vague and blurry. My Therapist says it's PTSD. My hippocampus was trying to protect myself from the harmful events that happened during that time. There are some crucial things I remember, my mom was in the hospital almost the entire time. She hated it and just wanted to be home. I don't blame her, those hospital beds are so uncomfortable.
The relationship between my father and his in-laws was never great. Always full of contention and never feelings of love. My father claims they never accepted him, that they thought my mom deserved better. She did. This is something I would never wish upon anyone.. The last months tried my relationship with my moms family and me as well. One weekend when my mom felt well enough she desperately wanted to visit Idaho, knowing this was probably her last time. But that weekend my father was particularly frustrated with my moms inabilities to function on her own properly (She is dying of cancer you jack ass). My grandfather got extremely defensive and there was a fight that happened. I was foolish to think that was the scariest moment of my life.
Another weekend my grandmother came to visit us in Utah, after another frustrating episode from my father my grandma stood up for her daughter, "She's sick! She's weak! Please lets just let her rest, she's so tired". My grandmother was forbidden from ever entering our home again. My father filled my mind with brainwashed thoughts that my grandparents and aunts and uncles didn't think I was taking care of my mom like I should have. That I would never be enough for them. Not only me, but my mom as well. "They would visit you more wouldn't they? They would visit your sick mother more wouldn't they?", He would say to confuse me. But I was trying! I tried so hard to take care of her. Always checking her oxygen, making sure her medications were on time, seeing if she was in pain, everything I could. Not only was I losing my mom, but I was losing her family as well. My father put a wedge between her family and me.
I missed a lot of school. I had amazing teachers that understood my situation and were more than happy to help. They matched my grades from first term since my attendance rate 2nd term was under 30%. They knew I was a student body officer who was capable of achieving a 4.0 and they weren't going to let my unforeseen circumstances get in the way of that. I am forever grateful.
My Father was still gone working a lot. He says that I don't know everything that happened behind the scenes. Which is true. But I don't want to know. Although, he doesn't know what I do know. I know that he would use the money people were donating to us for medical bills for drugs/alcohol, buying christmas gifts for other woman and their families, etc. The gas tank trick? I don't use any sort of drug but come on.. When I open your gas tank and find weed in it.. I knew my dad was gone. He was just along for the ride now. Or hiding it in old pill bottles/etc. in the garage.. Don't you know that girls find out everything? Even when we are 14. So yes, I don't know everything that happened behind the scenes, and I pray that my mother didn't know everything that happened behind the scenes either.
Mom eventually got so sick with bacterial meningitis that she wasn't allowed any visitors except immediate family. The neurosurgeons and oncologists prescribed my moms many medications; dozens. I tried to keep track of her pills when we were at home to make sure she got the medications she needed, but it was hard without the hospice nurse there. Prednisone was the worst drug. A monster steroid that turned my mom into a person that I didn't even recognize. These types of steroids mess with a person's personality along with their physical appearance. My mom looked swollen head to toe. She was never a grouchy person, but she became one. I was missing almost every day of school to be at home with my mom. At this point she was unable to walk, and on a good day she could hold a book to read. Her sister, my aunt Lisa, who is a registered nurse, taught me everything I needed to know to ambulate her and help with her activities of daily living. Lisa and her kids would come down almost every single weekend to spend time with mom, Zac, and I. Those are the memories that I will forever love. Those are the few times in those months that I saw my mom smile. I know it's because she had her best friend there with her in those last days, Lisa was forever her best friend.
My mom was so embarrassed to let me see her without clothes on or help her. She was such a private person so I understand how humiliating this must have been for her. But I was more than happy to help! I hope that my mom knows how much I loved taking care of her. Every challenge and frustration only made my love for her grow stronger. I turned into a woman in those 3 months. Growing up my mom did everything for me. As I've mentioned previously, she came from a poor home and wanted to give us everything possible. I would get home from a long 6 hour night of dance and a hot dinner would be ready for me at 10 PM. She would stay up as late as I needed to help me with homework, and she would do the same thing for my brother. We were the sole reason she was breathing. She fought for as long as she did for us. for Zac and I. I'm forever grateful she allowed me to take care of her those last few months.
On December 21st, 2010 I celebrated my last Christmas with my family of 4. I don't remember what presents I gave or received. I remember that my mom gave my brother and me video cameras to "record all of the little moments in life" I wish more than anything I would have gotten that camera a year earlier. In all honesty, I never even opened the box. My mom's nurse came over that day to do her daily check and I sat with her. My mom was now spending most of her days sleeping. Without thinking I blurted, "Is my mom going to die soon?" The nurse looked flushed and taken aback. I covered my mouth with my hands. She grabbed my hands softly and said, "I hope with my whole heart your mom makes it until Christmas". What?? Thats in 4 days! My heart began to race and I started having a panic attack. I immediately ran to my father and told him what the nurse told me. He told me to be quiet, got in the car, and drove away. I was alone, again, with the news that my mom could die at any minute. I couldn't breath, couldn't think, I wanted to die. So I went into my bright turquoise bedroom and I knelt by my bedside and I prayed the most humble prayer to a God that I wasn't sure I even believed in anymore. I begged him to take my life instead of hers. To take her suffering away and let her stay in this life and take care of my brother because he needs her! I was 14! I couldn't raise an 11 year old. And he had already lost so much. First his little brother and now his mom? He doesn't deserve this! "Please," I begged, "God take me instead". Through my tear stained cheeks and blood shot eyes I heard a voice. The tiniest whisper I have ever heard come from everywhere, but at the same time, come from absolutely nowhere, "You are stronger than you think you are". And so I got in the shower and I cried. For probably an hour I cried because I didn't want to be strong. I didn't want to be this girl anymore. The girl that everyone stared at and felt sorry for. The girl that everyone whispers about or says "Oh you know Bailee Barnard?".. "Yeah that poor girl.." I wanted to be the normal happy Bailee that everyone used to love to be around. The girl that dreamed of going to medical school and becoming a pediatric oncologist. That was strong in the gospel and loved her Savior more than anything in the world. The girl that was once strong enough to carry herself, let alone her entire family. The girl that could smile and actually mean it. But I stood there in the shower trying to accept the fact that my mother was about to die and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
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