As I kissed your cheek, I whispered for only you to hear, “I will love you for forever.” You exhaled as I inhaled my first breaths without you. You had been my not-so-silent partner my entire life, and I had never done anything without you. From that moment, I have been forced to carry on, to be open to new opportunities, and to make good decisions without my compass. When I think about it too much, it feels overwhelming and impossible, and yet here I am.
My mom died in the wee hours of the morning on Friday, September 18, 2015, of metastatic breast cancer. She was and remains the strongest, boldest, and bravest person I know.
As a perinatal therapist, I am faced with motherhood every day. I support my clients as they step through the threshold from one to two. I offer a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, words of wisdom, and validation, and remind them of their resilience as they share their woes, fears, and stress. They face countless thoughts and feelings while walking on a road traveled by many generations along the way. They are afraid to share some of those thoughts and feelings aloud; some have discussed them with a loved one or a partner, and many have told their mothers first before telling me.
Our moms are one of the pillars of our lives; she is the person we lean on the most when scared, hurt, or in need of information and clarity. If we’re lucky, they are the ones who know just what to do and say, just when we need it, and most of the time without us having to ask. Mothers learn on the go; they are the embodiment of what it means to sacrifice, and they lay the foundation of love, strength, and nurturing for their respective families.
Yet here I am, a member of the motherless – a truth that used to terrify me because I knew once you become a mother after your own mother dies, you’re mourning what might have been. Many women turn to their own mothers to glean insight, sometimes feeling a deepening of connection or, at the very least, a more well-rounded understanding of their maternal lineage. Being motherless amid the experience of pregnancy and new motherhood carries so many unanswered questions, grief, sadness, and limitations. Sometimes when alone, I have phantom conversations with my mother. We discuss the trivial to remarkable goings on. She says something that annoys me, I make her laugh, but never is she giving motherly advice. This reality is bittersweet.
For some women, they uncover a new appreciation for the complexities of what their own mothers endured; they may begin to feel a stronger bond with them even in their absence. Others may experience a sense of isolation, moments of envy, resentment, or anger. Adjusting to motherhood without a mother as a touchstone can make for a complex and emotional period, and these feelings are normal and understandable. Even during these moments, we often must show up for ourselves and our children anyway, so here are a few tips that may help you with this motherless motherhood thing:
- Allow yourself to feel all the feels.
- Take time when you need it.
- Celebrate her in any way you can, and talk about her every chance you get.
- Locate a mommy tribe – friends or loved ones who will help when needed (especially to help with #3).
- Talk to a therapist to help process these feelings.
I will always wish my mother was still here. In her absence, I have learned that this feeling is okay because she was and remains the strongest, boldest, and bravest person I know. And I will love her for forever.
Mischa Hadaway is a perinatal therapist with over ten years of experience. As the owner of Gentle Mama Counseling, she provides personalized therapy to hopeful, new, and soon-to-be parents. Mischa creates a safe space free of judgment for her clients who experience symptoms of anxiety, depression, trauma, shame, and guilt. Telehealth and evening appointments available.
Call 860.215.4710 and visit: gentlemamacounseling.com for more information.
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