On Being a Motherless Mother

When my mom died I went back to see my therapist.  I am pretty open about seeing a therapist now.  I mean I had a baby and 1 month later my mom was diagnosed with Brain Cancer – 6 months later she died.  It was horrific.  When I went to my therapist she called me a motherless mother.  There is a book about it.  It isn’t a phrase she coined.  But when she said it – I hated it.  I didn’t want the label.  I still hate it.  It sounds so hopeless.  But there is truth that being a motherless mother is much different than being a mom and having your mom around.  As I watch my son grow I am heartbroken she isn’t here.  But I am also pissed that I am missing out on having all my mom’s knowledge to help me.  I do have my MIL and she is great – I love her – but I want my mom plain and simple.  I don’t want to have to go to the internet to try and figure out if he is getting his 2 year molars early.  I want to know when I got my 2 year molars – did my brothers get theirs early?  She would know this.  She would remember.  That is how my mom was.  Her life was her kids.   People keep telling me time heals the wounds…which I am sure it does.  But I will always be missing that part of being able to go to my mom about parenting questions.  Or calling her just to say – Mom, Graham just did the cutest thing…

I have come to the acceptance part of grief.  I accept she is gone.  I don’t like it but I accept it.  I am getting to the point where I am starting to remember her not being sick and remembering her for who she was.  I am getting to the point where I chat with her in my head at night.  But I am having a hard time not feeling sorry for myself – that I am a motherless mother.  And I have a feeling I will always feel that way.  I missed out.  And I think that sucks.