When Mom moved into the care home, I knew life was going to change for both of us. After seven and a half years of caregiving, I’d become exceptionally good at figuring out what needed to happen next, although what I wanted rarely entered the conversation. Suddenly, many of the daily responsibilities I’d managed for years belonged to someone else, and I found myself wondering what this next chapter might look like.

Now, before anyone thinks caregiving ends when someone moves into a home, let me clear that up. Oh, honey. No. Mom still needs me, and in some ways, I believe she needs me more than ever. I’m her advocate, her connection to family, holidays, special occasions and the familiar pieces of a life she still loves. I’m her anchor to the world she knows, even as dementia makes that world increasingly confusing.

The wonderful people caring for Mom now handle many of her physical needs, giving me more time to focus on her emotional well-being. What an amazing opportunity that has been! We can laugh, share stories and enjoy each other’s company without my constantly calculating what needs to happen before bedtime. I get to spend more time simply being her daughter, a joy I’ve written about before.

Another beautiful change is that it’s easier for other people to be part of Mom’s life. Someone can stop by for fifteen minutes, bring a treat or share a little conversation without taking on the enormous responsibilities of caregiving. When I was out of town, my kids stepped in and spent time with their grandmother. Mom got to enjoy their company, and they got to enjoy hers. Frankly, after seven and a half years of listening to my material, I’m sure she appreciates a few guest performers.

Research confirms that family caregiving continues after residential placement, although our roles change. We remain advocates, companions and important connections to the people and experiences that give our loved ones a sense of belonging.

While I’ve been learning how to care for Mom differently, I’ve also begun thinking about how I want to live differently.

I’m making choices that have very little to do with emergencies or obligations. I’m thinking about making my home more comfortable, building Real Grace Co., walking, improving my fitness, studying the Bible and spending more time writing. I’m also discovering the extraordinary appeal of freezer meals, because apparently finding a homemade dinner already waiting in the freezer now qualifies as a thrilling personal achievement.

Some people want diamonds. I’d like six portions of chicken and rice that I don’t have to cook on a Tuesday. (Okay, and some diamonds for good measure. There will be no lowering of standards in this house.)

I’m not looking to fill every available hour. In fact, I’m wholeheartedly avoiding that approach. I’ve had busy, thank you very much, and I believe we’ve spent quite enough time together. I want a slower pace, meaningful work, room for faith and creativity, and the freedom to enjoy something without turning it into another responsibility.

I don’t necessarily want to return to the woman I was before caregiving. I can’t undo everything these years have taught me, but I can decide what to carry forward and what to leave behind. I couldn’t choose what dementia would take from Mom, and I still can’t control every challenge tomorrow might bring. But I can help fill her days with family, friendship and laughter while building a fulfilling life of my own. Those choices don’t have to compete.

For those of you still providing around-the-clock care, I know the idea of having time to make personal choices may seem about as realistic as winning the lottery while being struck by lightning. Those days are not distant for me, trust that. I’m not suggesting you can rearrange your calendar and create freedom where none exists. We both know that’s a lie. But circumstances can change, and when they do, I hope you’ll find a little excitement in choosing what comes next.

And here’s the bittersweet part of this journey. Someday, our loved ones won’t be here. As crazy as it sounds, I suspect we’ll miss some of the very things that drove us absolutely bonkers. The questions asked seventeen times, the constant need for our attention, even hearing our names called when we’d just sat down for the first time all day. I know I’ll miss those things about Mom, because underneath every interruption was someone I love dearly. Knowing that makes me want to enjoy the time we still have, even as I begin building a life of my own.

Caregiver Hack of the Week:

When an opportunity comes along, however small, ask yourself what you would choose. Maybe it’s inviting someone else into your loved one’s day, returning to something you enjoy or trying something entirely new. You don’t have to reinvent your life by Thursday. Just remember that your preferences deserve a vote, too.

Mom and I are both living differently now. She has new friendships, more family involvement and people who care about making her days meaningful. I’m building new routines and discovering what feels right for the woman I’ve become. Neither of us knows exactly what comes next, but after years of responding to whatever life demanded, I’m discovering something rather wonderful.

I get to help choose it. And that feels like a pretty good beginning.

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Research Resources

• Family Caregiver Alliance — Residential Care Options: Caregiving Doesn’t End When Your Loved One Moves
• Davies & Nolan (2006) — “Making it better”: Self-perceived roles of family caregivers of older people living in care homes, International Journal of Nursing Studies.
• Lee et al. (2022) — Unmet needs and health-related quality of life of dementia family caregivers transitioning from home to long-term care: A scoping review, Geriatric Nursing.