Mother’s Day, Year Four: Then, Now, and What’s To Come

Today is the fourth Mother’s Day since Mom passed away. Leading up to today, I found myself wondering if the day would feel different for me. I figured it might for a couple of reasons: 

1) Another year of healing has occurred, and 

2) Mother’s Day might carry a new, secondary meaning for me, considering I’m growing a baby inside of me and actively preparing to mother her. 

And I was right - it does feel different. Every year that passes, I learn to carry my grief for my mom differently. That first Mother's day, just a short month and a half after mom passed, I was broken in every sense of the word. I cried and cried and couldn’t remember any memories without being angry at the fact that I wouldn’t get any more. Despite a layer of gratitude beneath all the pain, it was nearly impossible to access. 

Now, though, three years later, I’ve learned how to welcome my waves of sadness and pain when they show up, while also allowing space for memories that invoke feelings of happiness, love, and gratitude. My grief has softened in some ways - not because I’m any less sad that she’s gone, but because I’ve learned how to live with it.

That secondary feeling I anticipated matters, too. So much of my world for the past several months has been consumed by thoughts about our baby girl. Thinking about how to physically prepare our house for her, what her nursery will look like, and also how my body has been changing to make room for her to grow. It’s hard not to think about what my new label of “Mom” will feel like.

And while I wonder what kind of Mom I’ll be, I think of my wonderful mom - how she showed up for me, and how she always seemed to know what I needed, even before I did. I think about her warm hugs, the way she made the smallest things feel like magic, and how much she loved me. I hope I can channel even a fraction of that love for my daughter.

But the ache is still there. When I think about my mom’s death and how young we both were, I feel heartbreak all over again. I wish Mom was here. I wish she could see me becoming a mom, could tease me about how big my belly is getting, and could place her hands on it to feel her grand baby kicking. I wish she could help me set up the nursery, and could reassure me that I’m going to figure motherhood out, through all the ups and downs. I wish she could meet her granddaughter, hold her, care for her, and help me raise her, just like she raised me.

This Mother’s Day is layered with both ache and love, and grief and hope. I think it always will be. Love for the Mom I lost, love for the baby I’m growing, and love for the version of myself that’s emerging from all of this: a daughter still grieving, and a mother in the making.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you, and I miss you. And to my daughter - the one who will make me a mom - I can’t wait to meet you!

This is a picture of Mom and I on Mother's Day in 2016.