On Mother’s Day I will give Mum a big hug and do my best not to cry

A mother and daughter’s relationship dramatically changes after a dementia diagnosis. As the condition takes hold, tables turn and a daughter often becomes a carer. Here, as we approach Mother’s Day, three women share how they cope with the heartbreak of

It’s time for me and my three sisters to look after Mum

Lauren Hewitt, 28, from Barnet, North London, has a rota with her three sisters Tilly, 24, Harriet, 29, and Ruth, 31, to care for their mum Laura, 62.

Mother’s Day is poignant for us. It’s hard to see social media full of friends’ happy and healthy mums out for lovely lunches because our mum is slowly slipping away.

Mum filled our childhood with colourful memories. She did endless activities with us like tie-dyeing our clothes or covering the lawn with giant rolls of white paper so we could all paint together.

In my teens, she stayed up into the small hours until we came home to cook bacon sarnies to line our stomachs before bed.

At any party, mum was the first up to dance. She had a loud laugh, bags of energy and an optimistic outlook. She could chat the hind legs off a donkey and loved meeting new people, so our house buzzed with laughter.

But we’ve had to say goodbye to that person. In 2013, Mum was diagnosed with posterior cortical atrophy, a rare form of dementia which has taken away the person Mum was and almost all her vision.

She was only 57 but looking back the signs were there for a few years. Mum, an artist all her life, had all the classic traits of someone creative - she was scatty and a

th Ruth and Flynn, their rriet and Tilly, inset, Laura

forgetful. But my three ters and I started to tice she’d do things like l the mobile phone she was lding in her hand. Her ving deteriorated and her emory frequently failed. We’d guessed at the dementia diagnosis om our own research but were vastated when it officially came. It made um cry. Accepting the diagnosis has en really hard for her and our dad Neil. Mum needs help with everything now, om dressing and washing to eating and aking a cup of tea. She often struggles find the right words so speaks little, one the hardest challenges for someone ho used to chat so much. To see such a ented artist lose the ability not just to aw but to write her own name is ushing. She doted on all of us and it’s BOND Janet with daughter Jane heartbreaking when she doesn’t recognise us. Tilly was in her late teens when mum’s symptoms started to show and 19 when she was diagnosed. Ruth had Mum’s first grandchild Flynn in 2016 – it’s been wonderful to see Mum develop her own bond with him, but also hard to know Mum won’t be a proper granny to any of our children. We see glimpses of her happy old self, like when she spends time with her grandson or walks our dogs. At a party she got up and had a good old boogie, and we thought, ‘There’s Mum’. It was amazing to see such joy deep inside her, but so sad to know it was only temporary. My sisters and I look after Mum 24-7 because she can’t be left alone. Ruth, Tilly and I all live at home so we’re always here, and Harriet comes in during the day when we’re at work. We have a weekly rota. We have our own careers, social lives and relationships so I won’t pretend it’s not a challenge. Mum repeatedly asked us to go and live our lives because she didn’t want to be a burden. But she’s our mum, who taught us kindness and instilled in us a sense of wanting to leave the world a better place. She’s the best mum we could ever have asked for and she needs us now. www.alzheimersresearchuk.org. To find out more about dementia or research call 0300 111 5 111.