On Grieving My Mom While Being a Mom

 I'm not sure if I'm ready to write about my mom yet. 

I think about her all the time. At least once a day I think "I really should call mom," because a part of me that isn't even thinking recognizes that I haven't spoken with her for too long. Then, just as quickly, I'll remember the reason why I haven't called her – she's not there any more. 

I hadn't seen my mom since January when she passed. I am so, so thankful that I spent last New Year's Eve, 2019 going into 2020, with her. Usually when I visit Maine for the holidays I go back to LA before the new year, but last year I stayed longer because my niece begged me too, and it just made sense. I didn't realize what a blessing it would be to have that memory: staying up until midnight chatting with my mom; mom, Izzy and I counting down to the New Year and toasting with sparkling cider and non-alcoholic champagne when the clock struck midnight. I wish we had taken pictures. 

My favorite picture of my mom. She looks so genuinely happy!

I'm also SO thankful that I got to see her while I was pregnant. My mom patiently waited for years for Nate and I to have kids. She knew that it was something I wanted, and it was something she desperately wanted for me, but she never made me feel pressured about our timeline. We wanted to wait for the perfect time. Then 2020 came along and showed us that there is no such thing as the perfect time! But I found out I was pregnant in October of 2019, and when I visited home for the holidays my mom was so happy for me. She loved to talk about the baby, and wanted to be there when he was born (even though because of her health and mobility we knew it was mostly a pipe dream). 

I sent my mom this pic of me looking quite pregnant!

She checked in with me all the time when I was back in Los Angeles, asking how I was feeling, if I could feel the baby moving, wanting to know about my appointments and ultrasounds. Honestly I would find myself getting annoyed at her attention. I was grumpy and pregnant and full of hang-ups. What would I give now for just one more text or call from my mom, checking in to see how Forest and I are doing? I'd give the world. 

Then Covid hit. We had no idea how long it would last, but it soon became apparent that all of our plans for how I wanted to give birth and introduce our baby to our families were out the window. 

Luckily, Nate was able to be in the room with me while I labored and gave birth, but my friend Meghan, who I wanted to be my birth coach, wouldn't be allowed to be there. My baby shower was cancelled, and we realized that Forest probably wouldn't be meeting our families until the Fall at least. 

My mom was so, so happy when Forest was born in May. She absolutely loved him. She texted me asking for pictures almost every day, and looking back on it she's the only person other than Nate who I truly knew wanted to know every mundane detail of his new little life. She asked for pictures of his tiny newborn hands and feet, which again annoyed me for some reason. Now, when I think of her sweet, sweet heart and her endless love for my baby, I can't help but cry. What a gift, to have a mom who cared that much about me; what a gift to have her love my baby, who she had never met, so so much. 

The first picture of Forest I sent to my mom.

My mom's health was not good, and Nate and I spent a lot of time weighing whether or not we should risk traveling back home so that our families could meet Forest, but the pandemic just kept getting worse, especially in LA. The cases in Maine stayed relatively low, and with my mom's health being so poor, we didn't want to risk bringing Covid to the state and endangering not only the people we loved, but who knows how many strangers along the way. So we sheltered in place and relied on phone calls and Facetime. 

I can still hear my mom saying "Hello, sweet boy," and "I love you, yes I do!" to Forest while they Facetimed. I am extremely thankful that we live in time where video chat is a possibility – even if they couldn't meet in person, at least they got to see each other. She got to see my sweet, perfect baby boy, and to tell him over and over how loved he was, and I know he must have felt it. 

I was really afraid that my mom would never get to meet Forest in person, and when she unexpectedly passed away on October 24th after returning home from a stay at a rehabilitation facility after falling in August, my worst fear became a reality. My mom loved babies more than anyone I ever met, and my mom loved me more than anyone on earth ever has or ever will, and her love for Forest was expansive and unconditional and holy. It seems beyond cruel that she was taken from us before getting to meet her grandson. 

There are nights when I nurse Forest in the dark and tears start falling down my face because all I can think about is how badly she wanted to hold him. I'll snuggle him against my chest and pray that somehow, somewhere, my mom can feel what I'm feeling – his warm, perfect weight cuddling against me – his soft little hands exploring my own hand as he nurses – the warm fuzz of his baby hair tickling my chin – the way he curls into me when he's done, safe and nourished and loved and content. I would not be the mother I am today without having the mom I had. Every expression of love I give my son is also an expression of my mom's love, and I will never forget that.  

My mom's comment on this pic of us with Forest at 2 weeks old: "He may be small but he’s strong as a redwood!"

I've experienced loss before, with the passing of grandparents, my birth mother, and my dad a few years ago. But nothing hurts like losing the person who loved you more than anyone, who made you who you are. 

How I miss them.

It is hard to write about grief, and it is hard to read about grief. I go back and forth between not wanting to think about it at all, and obsessively trying to remember every single little thing about my mom. 

Thank you to all of my friends and family who have been so supportive during this time. I can only hope that I will be able to fill the world with as much love as my mom felt for Forest, and that when my own loved ones are in pain and in need, I can be as kind and patient with them as they have been with me.