Missing Motherhood and My Mother

Somewhere along the road I transitioned from relating to Bart and Lisa to relating to Marge and Homer. These days I’m barreling towards becoming Abe.

It is the natural progression for those privileged enough to get this much time. It is far from a negative aspect of living, it is the best case scenario. I try never to forget that so many of my friends and loved ones are not here to see another sunrise, yet I still am.

Though the last ten months have likely been the hardest of my life, I am still here and blessed to have lived them. I am still here and blessed to be learning. I am still here to set fire to the status quo and  disturb the peace whenever necessary.

A young mother sat across from me attempting to comfort her fussy baby. Having exhausted every other option she lifted her shirt as subtly as she could while achieving a decent latch. Breastfeeding wasn’t easy for me and I had to manage loud negative comments from strangers I would definitely put in their place were it to happen today. At the time, when I was new at this, I was certain my very existence was offensive in many ways. I was constantly convinced I was doing things wrong.

I wasted so much time telling myself I was doing everything wrong.

I try not to dwell on it because that’s my go-to state of being. I try to stay out of my head on past parenting because I can get stuck in regret over things I can’t do over.

I would be softer if I could. To myself and my kids. I would listen to them instead of concerning myself with the opinions of other adults. I would be gentler with their mistakes and my own. I would follow my heart and trust my gut and not take advice from people who don’t bond with their own kids in a way I want to emulate.

I would be more like my mom was.

All of these thoughts flood me at once under a big umbrella of, “that part of my life is forever over”. No more little hands to hold or little shoes to tie or preschool art coming home.

While at the same time I’ve entered this weird motherless existence of my own. It may have been a long time since my mother cradled me against her body as comfort like an infant but she was always a genuine comfort to me just the same.

How odd it feels to be in this place in life. To be heartbroken over everything I’ve lost but filled with gratitude that I ever had those things at all.

There’s no way to know when you’ll pick up your babies for the last time any more than you can know when you’ll be hugged by your mom for the last time. My advice is to act like it’s right now because before you know it, it is.