Halfway to Baby, and Missing My Mom More Than Ever

I’m 21.5 weeks pregnant. Over halfway there - halfway to meeting this tiny baby girl who is already changing me in ways I could never have expected. And as my belly grows and I begin to imagine what it will feel like to hold my baby for the first time, I find myself thinking about my mom constantly. 

I always miss my mom - every single day - but there's something about this moment in my life that has cracked open a whole new layer of grief. I've known since Mom passed away that this chapter of my life would be a difficult one without my mom - bittersweet. But this is hard to describe. I really wish she were here for this.

There’s so much I want to ask her. So much I want to tell her. I wish I could call her just to say, “Did you feel this tired when you were pregnant with me?” or "Did you puke all the time like I am?!" or “How did you know you were ready?” Or just to hear her voice say, “You’ve got this.”

Being pregnant has given me this deeper appreciation for what she went through to bring me (and my brother) into the world. I’ve always known she loved us fiercely, but now I’m starting to feel the kind of love she must’ve felt. The kind that’s already wrapped up in every kick, every late-night worry, and every little dream I have about who this baby might be.

It’s wild how becoming a mom yourself can make you see your own mom in such a different light. I wish I could tell her that. I wish I could look her in the eyes and say, “I get it now. At least a little. And thank you.”

I find myself wondering what she was like when she was pregnant. Did she talk to her belly like we have been? Did she worry about being a good mom? Did she crave weird things? There’s so much I’ll never get to know, and that’s really hard.

And here’s the part that really hurts: I know how much support she would’ve given me. I saw it. I watched her show up for my brother and sister-in-law when they had their two kids - always there, always steady, always helping in the way only she could. And I know she would’ve been the exact same for me… maybe even more.

I can picture it so clearly. I know she’d be my second supporter in the room with me during labour - right there beside my husband, holding my hand, helping me breathe through the hard parts, cheering me on. I know she’d be there in those first few days at home, teaching me all the little tips and tricks that only a mom seems to know: how to soothe a crying baby, how to swaddle just right, how to survive on next to no sleep.

It’s those moments - the ones where I know she’d have been my rock - that sting the most.

But at the same time, this pregnancy is teaching me so much already - about strength, about love, about patience. And it’s also teaching me more about my mom. About everything she gave, everything she felt, everything she probably kept to herself just to keep us safe and happy.

I miss her more than I can say. And I also feel closer to her than I have in a long time. That’s the strange, beautiful, heartbreaking thing about grief and new life existing side by side.

If she were here, I know she’d be proud. I know she’d be so excited to be Gramma to my baby girl. And I like to think that somehow, in some quiet, unexplainable way - she knows.