Motherless Daughters

Having met so many women and girls over the past few years, I am now very aware that “motherless” means different things to different people. I cannot speak to everyone on the life experience of being “motherless” because I only truly know my experience. Thankfully, I have come to know other women in different circumstances who can offer their stories and hopefully connect with women and girls out there dealing with the same.

One of my new friends is Marriann. I am grateful for her willingness to share her story, thoughts and feelings with us on being an adopted daughter. She is an inspiration, and I hope this is not the last guest post she will make for us

April 2012 – by Marriann Hammond

I was adopted.

Growing up, I never heard the word adopted in my house.  I didn’t even know what adopted meant, never-mind knowing that I was an adopted child.  I found out I was adopted one morning on the school bus.  Another kid told me.  Apparently everyone else in my small town community knew, except me.   It is fresh in my 31 year old mind, just like it was yesterday.  It was spring.  I can hear the early morning chattering of the children.  To the East, the sunrise is freshly peeking over the Alberta prairie.  I’m in the third seat behind the bus driver.  I’m nestled up against the window.  I’m tracing trees with my finger on the window, in the morning dew.   A girl, a few years older than me leans over the back of my seat and tells me “You were adopted.”  Do I tell her “I have no idea what that means”?  I can’t tell her that.  I’m too quiet, and shy and I feel like people already think I’m stupid.  I don’t have to tell her I don’t understand.  She goes on.   “When you were a baby, your mom didn’t want you, so she put you up for adoption”.  That’s all I remember.

I have early memories of my Grandmother telling me how special I was.  She loved to tell stories and reminisce about the day my dad brought me home to meet her.  It’s one of her favorite stories to tell me.  We’d sit in the very kitchen of the house he brought me too.  The home I spent so much time at – with the woman I most adored growing up.  She’d say “I was sitting right here when your dad walked around the corner with you in his arms – he was so proud of you Marriann – and oh, you were the most beautiful baby I had ever seen.  You had the rosiest red cheeks and your eyes.  My gosh, the brightest eyes.  You were perfect!!  They dressed you so nicely.  They put a white bonnet on you.  Your skin was like a doll, a china doll.  Oh, you were such a beautiful baby – and you still are!” She always has so much passion and excitement when she tells me that story.  Grandma would always tell me how my birth-mother kept me until I was six months old, because I was so special.  Being the quiet submissive girl I was, I never questioned Grandma, or my adoptive mother when they told me this.  I just always thought to myself “if I was so damn special, why did she give me away?”

Sure, I had a mother.  In fact, I had two.  My mom and dad divorced when I was three.  My dad re-married shortly thereafter.  I grew up having two mothers.  My dad’s second divorce and third marriage brought along my third mother.  What more could a girl want, or need?

I envied all of my friends and even my own cousins.  They had what appeared to me, an amazing relationship with their mothers.  A bond, like no other.  I felt comfortable when I was with my friends and their mother’s.  Being with them filled my “tank”.  I’d go home, my “tank” would empty.

It is hard to describe the feeling of loneliness.  I’ve felt it for years.  A loneliness I feel to the core of my being, in the marrow of my bones.  Lost, detached, missing.   I’ve often felt like I’m wandering around in the center of a strange city.  Not knowing which direction to go.  There is nobody I trust to ask for directions.  People can tell that I’m lost, they want to help me.  But they don’t understand – I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.  I have to just figure it all out on my own.  I feel like “this” has been the story of my life.

There is a sense of wonder that never leaves you when you don’t know where you come from.  Not a day went by when I didn’t wonder.  I’d wonder “why?”.   “Why did she let me go?”.  “Was I not worthy of keeping?”

I remember being in grade four, in Beiseker, Alberta.  We were there for my older brother’s hockey game.  I was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle, the window was down.  I could see this woman getting into a truck.  She looked familiar, but I had never seen her before.  Our eyes connected.  It was as if at that very moment, our souls connected.  I remember thinking “that woman looks like me – I wonder if she’s my mother?”.  I never experienced “that” before, but it wasn’t the last I wondered if a stranger was my mother.

Once I became an adult, I filed the necessary papers to learn what I could about her.  I longed to find that piece of me.   I too soon discovered that without her also trying to find me – we would never be connected.  Sure, I could have hired someone to find her.  I inquired about it many times.  It was too scary.  What if she didn’t want to find me?  Could I handle that rejection.  No.  I started a Facebook page, just in case she felt the same way, and did want to find me.

April 17, 2009 a day I will never forget.  It’s the day I received a Facebook message “I’m Donna-Lee.  I think I am your birth-mother.”  I stared at the screen in disbelief.  And then I cried.  I cried like I have never cried before.  What is going on?  Is this a joke?  She sent me a picture.  I couldn’t stop staring at an older version of myself.

The story ended differently than I had envisioned.  The tears turned from joy, back to sadness and disappointment.  We haven’t spoken for over a year now.  However, words cannot express the relief that has come by no longer having to wonder.

There are times when I feel sorry for myself.  I fall to my knees.  My heart hurts.  How can I have four mothers and still feel like a mother-less daughter?  Why?  But then I think of my dearest friends who knew their mothers for far too little.  Their mothers were taken away too soon.  From that, I’ve learned to forgive my mother’s for any pain they have caused me.  Maya Angelo said “You did what you know how to do. When you knew better, you did better.” I am thankful.  Thankful, for they did only what they knew how to do.  They may not love me the way I think I should be loved.  They love me the only way they know how.

As for the birth-mother I haven’t talked to in over a year, I’ve come to realize she gave me life and the least I can do is call her up for coffee.  She has suffered far too long.  And for that, I ask for forgiveness.

December 1, 2011

It’s been 14 years today since Mom died.

Today is the first, I think, that I didn’t consciously count down the hours. The accident was just after 3pm, and she died approximately 6:00. Previous years have had me sick to my stomach all day, until 3, then I would just cry and cry, dreading every second as it crept closer to 6. Then at 6, I would grieve all over again. I relived every minute, from looking at the clock at school at 3, to deciding to get on the bus because she wasn’t at school to pick us up. Then at 4:10 we were getting off the bus, to find her gone. The police showing up, finding out the horrific news alone, being taken into town to see her at the hospital, starting the drive to Edmonton, stopping on the side of the road, erupting in anger when we were told the news. Then I envisioned my 9 year old brother collapsing on my lap, and the long silent drive back home. My heart was pounding, my thoughts wild, my body numb. I remember jumping out of bed at 3am, after just finally falling asleep, to live it all over again, realizing it was real, and it had been 12 hours since the accident.

Every day thereafter I just relived it over and over. When finally it wasn’t every day, it was for sure the 1st of every month (which was awful with my birthday landing on February 1st). Then it eventually became every annual anniversary. The past few years have been tough, likely because these are my first few years of being a Mommy. Everything is different for me, because I have a wider perspective. I grieve for us as kids, because suddenly now I see how much we lost. I grieve for myself as a “Motherless Mother” because not a day goes by that I don’t wish I had her guidance. I grieve for my daughter, who deserved to have Gramma Tata’s love and affection. For my Dad, who lost his soul mate, the love of his life.

It’s just been one year after another of difficult December firsts. Until this one. I expected to wake up this morning feeling like a ball of poop. But I didn’t. I expected to have a bad dream and to wake up with my heart aching. I didn’t. I expected for it to hit me as 3pm closed in, and when it didn’t, I expected 6 to bother me. But right now, it’s 5:53 and I’m not crazy emotional. I know my Dad had a tough day, but that likely has a lot to do with the fact that he’s going through a divorce and this is probably one of the first couple anniversary’s he hasn’t had someone else in his life. I know he needs to go through these, almost starting from scratch again. I’m so relieved to realize I got through this one ok. I have come to realize I will forever live with the fact my Mom died, 14, 17, 20, 30, 40 years ago. I’m grateful my pain isn’t still on the surface, buggering up my days, wreaking havoc on my body, screwing with my mind. I can think of her, shed a tear, feel her love, and move forward. This is not to say I won’t have brutally difficult days anymore, in fact, BRING IT. (…I’d give anything for a day in bed!)

But for now, I’m living with my grief, and still moving forward. As we all must, regardless of life’s circumstances. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Mom’s love is penetrating heaven’s silvery boarders, flowing to earth, and into the hearts of the most beautiful women in the world, who are passing it on with flowers, hugs, and love, to us. Thank you, each of you, who sent us a “thinking of you today”, “hugs”, or a “<3” message (social media life). We love you all so much, you GIVE us our Mother’s love, and many of you, MOST of you, never even knew her. You know us, and you love us, so you know and love her. We are so grateful for this. And, although I’m not a religious person, but certainly a spiritual person, I want to thank God for getting us here, and allowing us the opportunity to feel our Mom’s love and find her guidance in others. I pray that all the other Motherless Daughters of the world are or will someday soon find the same peace.

Last week I had the honour of experiencing Fierce Woman of the Year Awards, held in Edmonton and organized by one of the fiercest woman I’ve ever met, Tamara Plant. This event was only the 2^nd annual, and I’ll admit I’ve been to a few awards ceremonies but this one was unique, exhilarating. I was privileged to know 8 or 9 of the nominees and guests, so attending as a nominee myself was so exciting! My Dad, sister, husband Mike, and our friends Dan & Alana made up my entourage and I was proud for them to meet the women I know through various networking groups. I know how powerful these events can be, emotional and inspirational, and I was looking forward to having them experience it with me.

The Rising Star nominee was going to be presented to the woman who best represented a young entrepreneur making a difference in the community. When you get recognized for something you’ve done, especially something that you are deeply passionate about, it’s a pretty humbling experience. And being recognized in front of an incredible audience of phenomenal women is terrifying! I was just excited to be there, I was enjoying the time mingling and meeting other entrepreneurs. Mike looked so great in his black suit, my Dad was beaming, and Cortney was having a blast. Cortney and I got our picture in front of the Fierce Woman Awards background, we were feeling like a million bucks!

We settled down and things got started. Stacey Brotzel from City TV Edmonton’s Breakfast Television was the host, someone I’ve been watching on tv for about 6 years! We got right into the ceremony with the first award, Rising Star. She went through the list of nominees and I reflected on each of the stories I’d read of them. Each young woman was overachieving and striving to make a difference. My heart picked up the pace and I got nervous as the moment drew near. And suddenly, it was my name that rang out! I was shocked and all of a sudden panicking that I hadn’t really prepared myself for this.

It was nerve-wracking and overwhelming, but I got up there and stumbled through my acknowledgements. I wish I had said more, but I thanked Cortney and Mike, the rest of my family, the women of eWomen Network, and most emotionally, I thanked my Mom. I thanked her for her sacrifice, and I wish I had been able to say more. I would have told everyone how thankful I am to be on this side of the pain and darkness of loss. 10 years ago if you had told me, like so many did, “There is a reason for everything”, I would have felt insulted and furious. It’s a comfortable thing for someone who hasn’t experienced a loss of this magnitude to say, but when you are suffering in the middle of grief, it is a difficult thing to hear. I remember screaming into my pillow many, many nights “There is NO WAY God wanted this pain for our family! How could it be ok with Him that we hurt this bad?! How was it meant to be that the one person in the world we need more than anyone will never come home?” As they say however, whatever you are going through, remember you are going through it. The heartbreak lessened as we learned to live our new life. The shock of her never coming home wore off, although it took years, and we learned how to move through each day with fewer tears, and more determination. I figured out really quick that wallowing in sorrows is no good for anyone. It was lonely at home for the first few years after Mom died, but it got worse after we moved out.  Mike and I were living with roommates, but they all worked away, so I was really living alone. I had only a couple close friends, but with us all on different schedules, I didn’t hang out with anyone. I didn’t go out much, and we had hardly any money to do anything. I was still in my black hole.

At the first opportunity, I ran from Grande Prairie with the determination to live MY OWN life instead of continuing to move through the life forced upon me. It was this decision that changed everything. It altered my mindset and I became focused, positive, and at times fearless. It was almost stubborn, like “I don’t care what lies ahead, because anything is better than this.” Suddenly my life was in my hands, and I had a new job, was meeting new people, made a home in a new town. I was going to embrace it!

This newfound life gave me everything. Courage, positivity, and eventually balance. It was the opening scene to the new life we are now living. And I have never looked back. No regrets. In fact, when Cortney and I decided to incorporate the business, it was just before the 10^th anniversary of Mom’s death. Those 10 years were the worst, but this was our turning point. Mom had given us our grief period, and thank goodness we have the strength to endure it. Many nights I felt I would die of a broken heart, but extraordinarily every morning I woke up. We needed to live through all that to one day see the beauty, have the insight, and feel happiness again. And now that we do, life has never been more fulfilling.

This brings me to the night of the Fierce Awards. It was a night that encompassed everything we have endured. I was recognized not just for my work with The Bra Lounge, but for my work with Motherless Daughters. I am a Motherless Daughter because of my loss. And I couldn’t have ever become this if I hadn’t had the affectionate, honourable Mother that I had, and lost. I can finally embrace that maybe I was meant to be here. My Mother’s life was not in vain. In my short, unprepared speech I remembered to thank her for her sacrifice, because her leaving us was a bittersweet gift. I can only hope to live the rest of my life feeling this way.

The other amazing thing about this award ceremony was that I could have never been gifted with this win if I wasn’t a Mommy. When a child is born, a Mother is too. My Mom gave me the life I’m living, and I am paving the way for Maddy to live the life of her dreams too. Being recognized for the 2 biggest gifts ever given is just so remarkable. I feel a little more grown up, even more focused, and even more determined. I have already lived a few lives, and I’m only 29. I know that whatever is around the corner, we can and will endure. Everything is deeper, love, understanding, and sadness. This is the best gift of all.

To everyone who cried for us, loved and supported us, and continue to check in on us, I say Thank You. I now know we were never really alone. Thank you to Tamara Plant, Jo Vacing and all the eWomen friends I have made, the community of entrepreneurs in Red Deer who have embraced us and cheer us on. Special thanks to our staff, who are our family. Thanks to my Motherless Daughters, who have helped to heal me more than they know.

Thanks to my close friends and extended family for your love. And an emotional thank you to my brother and sister, my lifelong best friends, and Dad, who shows us unconditional love and support every day. And lastly, Mike and Maddyx. You fill my heart with joy, and make everyday worth living. Thank you for giving me the title of Mom. I promise to live up to it just like my Mom did.

“Mothers and Daughters become closer when daughters become mothers” Truth, even after death

Although I don’t post as often as I could, the effects of being “Motherless” live with me every day. I’m busy raising a little girl, running a business, and trying very hard to keep up with volunteer activities as well as family time. It would be overwhelming for anyone, but without the daily support of Mom there are days I just want to crawl right back into bed and forget all the obligations I have for the day. A lot of other women my age are not doing all of this all at once. A lot of women, if they don’t plan to stay home, start working or starting new endeavours after they have had their kids or kids have started school. I know women who stay home with their kids, and still have their parents take their kids on the weekends or a night or two a week. I on the other hand, had all these other things going on before we decided to start our family. There was no maternity leave after Maddy was born, I continued to do our books and marketing the week after she arrived. To top it all off, my husband and I don’t have everyday parental support. Mikes parents live hours away, and although my Dad is close, he is running his own business and keeps very busy.

The past 3 or 4 years have flown by so fast. Being eyeballs deep in responsibility helps that to happen. Many times a week I wish I could make an emergency phone call to heaven and ask her to come back and be with us, even just for a day. I feel like even if she was just here to talk to I could face each day with more confidence and faith. Now that I am an adult, I recognize one of the qualities I lack is self confidence, and although that’s something women all over the world struggle with, I think for me it has everything to do with not having her support. I am constantly asking myself what she would do, what she would think, how she might feel in the different circumstances I face. My Mom too was an entrepreneur, having had her first business, a hair salon, at 19. She was dedicated to being the best woman, mother, wife, and friend she could be, regardless of the work involved.

I often wish I knew her as an adult, because at the time of her death when I was 15, we were dealing with the tumultuous mother/teen daughter relationship. Right after she died I regretted not having a better understanding of who she was as a woman. When we talk about her now, Dad reminds us of her energy, her commitment to her family and friends, her hard work ethic, her conviction, her spirituality. This past year we have faced highly stressful situations, both professionally and personally, and these are the times I wish I had her to talk to most. I am not someone who likes confrontation (more like my Dad that way), and in the past I would shut down and have a very difficult time voicing my opinion. I have always had the opinion “who am I to say?” and as a business owner, I felt I would be easily taken advantage of if I wasn’t able to take a stand. Recently I was talking to my Dad about these fears, and he said “Sheena you have Moms blood running through your veins, and she would never stand for getting walked on.” He told me of a time when we were very little, when he had some very ignorant co workers. One guy specifically got under my Moms skin, and she could never quite put a finger on why. He was loud and overly opinionated, and had no problem instigating fights at company parties. One night he was being a particularly pigheaded drunk, and had chosen my Dad to pick on. (My Dad is good for walking away, which I find admirable when the other option is swinging a fist.) Dad turned his back, but Mom decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. The guy’s night ended with Mom standing behind his chair, holding his head back, and dumping a drink down his throat until he choked.

AWESOME. (This guy was later caught being inappropriate with teenage babysitters in our neighbourhood… so Moms feeling’s of the creep turned out to be bang on.)

Another quality my Mom had was her unbridled ability to have a great time! She loved a good party, and was always clowning around. Her friends and family tell us stories of her ridiculous nature. She always had a good story or joke to tell (and they weren’t always clean or appropriate, I might add). When we go back to see family in Saskatchewan, the stories of “Tata”, the nickname given to her by her younger brothers who could not say “Loretta”, are endless. In fact, when I was there this summer with Maddy, we caught a little frog in the grass and Maddy wanted to keep it to show Grandpa when he got back from the field. We had it in a TEENY TINY (seriously!) plastic container. It kept hopping up and hitting its head on the lid. My compassion, albeit over the top, forced me (yes, forced me) to do something and I convinced Maddyx that the frog had a family she needed to get home to. So we let her go. When Grampa got home and was told about the frog Maddy caught, he asked where it went. Gramma said “Oh good lord, TATA had to let it go because she felt bad”. Of course I have always known what an animal lover she was, but I’m realizing how many of the emotions that run through me also ran through her. Although she is not here to share her thoughts and feelings with me, I have a better understanding of what made her tick, because it’s what is also making me tick.

The memories people share with us warm our hearts and bring us closer everyday to the woman Mom was. I now know that being a Mother doesn’t necessarily dictate the woman I am. There is more to me than that. Although it has taken over a decade to get here, each time I think about her, I feel her. She is beside me every day, helping me make decisions, encouraging me to work hard to chase my dreams. In fact, even my dreams make more sense. I have the same conviction she had to be the wife, mother, friend, and community member she needed to be to make the world a better place. I have a better understanding of why I feel the way I do, why my blood boils instantly when I witness or hear of bullying or violence, why my heart breaks when something bad happens, and why I am elated with happiness when great things happen. I never knew my Mom as an adult, but after 14 years without her, I’ve never understood her better.

This Thanksgiving, I reflect on the person I am, and give thanks for the woman who helped me become this person. As I’ve said before, I am the woman I am today because of my Mom’s death, as much as her life. I have no regrets, and I know she has none as well. She is alive and thriving through us. And looking at my daughter, her blond hair and blue eyes, her rock star nature, I know I will live forever, too.

♥

Its a beautiful May Long, for ONCE in my lifetime there is no snow forcasted for this weekend! My husband is gone fishing, and my daughter is off to her Gramma and Papa’s for the weekend. I was hell bent on making sure this weekend “off” was a productive one; I wanted to sand and prepare to paint the backyard fence, get down and dirty spring cleaning this house, and get some bookkeeping done for the store (ambitious huh?). Unfortunately, I am laying sick on the couch instead. And although I’m thrilled for a weekend of peace and quiet, I’m BUMMED to be sick all by myself!

I spoke to my girls in Olds a few times this past week, and both have been fighting illness. One has been struggling with pneumonia and the other has had tonsillitis. I know how much they hate missing school (especially this late in the year) and being away from friends, and yet they’ve been forced to stay home. It breaks my heart that all I can do is email them my friendship and understanding. I know how it feels to be sick and missing the love and comfort of Mom. We now have to suck it up and care for ourselves, even when we are feeling weak and emotional. Dads of course step in, but you miss MOM so much more when you are sick.

As a Mom, I know I can notice little changes in my girl, from a surpressed appetite, to lower energy, when she’s not feeling well. I know when she needs a little longer afternoon nap, or more fluids. She relys on my Motherly Instinct. And the more I do to offer her my love, the more I notice missing that from my Mom. Its easy to know what my baby needs, but when I’m trying to pay attention to my needs I get frustrated. I shouldnt have to be this for myself, I should have this woman noticing the little changes in me. Regardless of our age, every boy and girl needs their Mother.

As I sit in my quiet home and cough and sneeze the day away, I think about all the kids, and adults, who are down in the dumps, feeling under the weather and miserable. If I could, I would show up with delicious hot soup for all of you, and a big hug. Then I would take your hand, walk you up to bed, and tuck you in with a kiss on the forehead. I would pop in with kleenex and help you sit up to blow your nose when you woke up congested. I would try, for one single day, to make you feel the love and compassion of your Mom. Because I know she would love to be here, loving and caring for you. Whether you are still little, in your 30’s, or in your 50’s.

Feel better soon.

ox

This Mother’s Day, I am the Mother of a 2.5 year old. Obviously I’ve never been the Mother of a toddler before, so it seems that each day is a whole new experience! Luckily, we have a pretty fantastic little girl. She is clever, bright, outgoing, determined, and imaginative. She is more than I could have ever dreamed. My husband and I look at each other every day and think “how did we get so lucky?” I’m so blessed to be celebrating a Mother’s Day with my family.

A few weeks ago I hit an emotional low, just out of the blue, with no warning. Life was crazy busy, and I was being pulled in a million directions. One night, my husband and I were talking about our teens. He made a comment that reminded me of a Friday when he’d come to see me and spend the weekend. He said he’d been so excited to get there, but when he arrived, I was just laying around in sweats, not really interested in doing anything. He was an 18 year old guy looking forward to a weekend of fun, and I was depressed and down in the dumps. I realized I had very few happy memories from those days. I didn’t remember parties, my first jobs, or hanging out with friends. I didn’t pay attention to music we listened to, or movies we saw. It hit me how sad that is. I let myself feel the misery and the feelings of stress and insecurity that we should have never had to experience. I let myself really cry; the sobbing, heavy, heaving kind that I haven’t let myself cry in years.

I reflected on my Mom a lot that week. I noticed a photo one day in a collage frame in the hallway. I was walking to the closet to put new sheets on the beds, thinking about the quiet mornings my Mom had and how I remember what the house felt like when she’d had a day off. Beds made, fresh, warm buns and bread cooling on the counter. Her cup of cold coffee left in the bathroom from the morning.  The picture was of her, me, and my brand new baby brother. It was taken in the hospital right after he’d been born. I was 6, and I was beaming as I held him. Mom looked exhausted, but thrilled to have her healthy, happy, new baby boy. After staring at the picture for awhile, I had the sad realization that from the day that photo was taken, she had only 9 years left to live. I started to think about how much my Mom had loved being a Mom. How she had once loved me, her little 2.5 year old baby girl, her first child, as much as I now love mine. She cherished her Mother’s Day’s as much as I am now cherishing mine. She too, was overwhelmed, terrified, and bursting with affection for little me. It all of a sudden caught up with me, and I was so sad that she and I, and my siblings, were both missing out on a relationship that so many others have. I was overwhelmed to imagine myself only having 9 years to live.

It’s a horribly scary thing to contemplate, especially for those of us who already know what a devastating loss feels like. I let myself go through a much needed relapse, and I’m back to my old self now. Only, I am more appreciative, once again, for every waking day I have with my baby. I have been reminded that today is all that matters and that I must do the things I need to to be happy. Investing in quality time with those I love, and learning to say NO and not feel responsible for other’s lives or feelings. I’ve empowered myself with the self realization that I MATTER TOO. My Mom mattered, and I wish she’d done more for herself to be happy, as she had only 39 years to live her life. This little episode put me in my place; it was my old, sad self saying “HEY! Don’t you remember what you went through? How terrible it was for you? Don’t you think now that you are healing, you deserve to be happy?”

As quickly as the scab had been torn open, it started to heal itself. This fall apart was great for me, and I am sure it wasn’t the last fall apart I’ll have. I’m not going to be afraid of them; it was relieving to give my experience the attention it needed. It let me miss my Mom more than I have in a long time, and recover again, and this makes me realize that I am healing.

On this Mother’s Day, I not only reflect on my Mother, but I cheer the woman she was. Her strength, confidence, beauty, and pride. Her love, compassion, and generosity. She lives in me, and in my daughter. I’m so grateful for her legacy.

“Only healing when you ache, only feel it when you don’t” Chris Cornell.

I got home from another busy day yesterday, to a voicemail message from my best friend, who up until recently has been stay at home Mommy to her 2 daughters who are now 6 and 4. This past winter she has started working part time and we talk often about the energy and motivation it takes for a woman to do both (..all…) jobs.

Her message said “Hey – just me! I worked at 8:30 this morning, got home at 5:30, I had nothing out for supper, I have to bath the kids, I have to clean my house for company, I have to plan for a birthday party this weekend… I thought of you all day, and I have to wonder… HOW THE HELL DO YOU DO THIS?  So if no one has told you today, YOU ARE AMAZING! I think of you, I know you can do it, so I know I can too.”

My heart soared when I listened to this message. Amanda has a way of making sure I know everyday how much she believes in me. We have been close for 11 years, but every year that our lives get a little more complicated with kids, work, and life, we seem to get closer. I am so grateful for the relationship we share; she is like another sister to me. I have a few very close girlfriends, and I am so lucky to know these women love me, and support me. Mel has been in my life since kindergarten, Kim since grade 4 or so, and Amanda since grade 12. There are many others, but these 3 give me energy that no one else gives. I love them so much.

There is so much sadness and loss that comes with losing a Mom. But something I’m really becoming aware of now that I’m struggling to balance a family, home and career, is that I long desperately for someone who tells me how much they love me. I miss the structure a Mother gives her family. I miss the unwavering support, and uncompromising love. It’s been 14 years since we had someone who we knew without a doubt supported us. We know our Dad does, and of course he tells us he loves us all the time. But the love and understanding a Mom gives her daughters is different. If she were here, she would know all my lifelong struggles. She’s the only one I could be truly honest with, because she’s the only one who’s been there, everyday, since the very beginning. No one knows my daughter like I do, and lately I’ve been sad that no one knows me like my Mom would. That is a hole in my heart that no one on this earth can fill. And I think because our business is doing well, and because on the outside things look ok, everyone just forgets the little things (which are huge things to me…) we still miss. I make comments about having a long day, having lots to do, feeling the pressure, and people laugh and say “Yes! Its hard isn’t it, being a working wife and Mom! I know, I’ve been there!” This hurts me. Yes, you have been here. But you were here with the support of your Mom. Your Mom came in every now and again and took you for coffee, or for lunch, or to Costco… to give you a break. No one does that for me. Week after week after week my husband and I put every ounce of our energy into life, which I KNOW is not unlike most other families… I KNOW! But most other people our age have parents of their own who swoop in and rescue them, whether its with compassionate conversation, birthday cards (you don’t know how much I miss birthday cards), funny emails, lunch, or taking the kids on a regular basis. No one truly see’s beyond everyday life, to the black holes that speckle my heart.

I feel petty bringing these things up, because I was raised to give before you receive. But you don’t realize the thoughtfulness your Mom has until no one is there being thoughtful. Christmas gifts meant just for me, being aware of my needs, and trying to fill them. Having a sincere someone to talk on the phone with about my struggles as a wife and Mom.

I am so lucky that my sister and I are also so close. The trouble there is that we share the same holes. We can’t always fill each other’s tank with support and love, because to pass it, you must get a refill. Often it’s like we are throwing a ball back and forth – here’s your love for the day, but I need you to pass it back to me soon. It’s really hard to rely on each other all the time, we both need other relationships in our lives to pass that love to us. Plus, we are not the same people. We don’t necessarily follow the same path to fulfillment. I’m a much more emotional person, so I crave deep, meaningful relationships. I can’t expect Cortney to always have what I need from her at the time, and I can’t be self absorbed enough to expect her to not be having a bad day the same time as I am.

Becoming Motherless is more than just the event itself that takes her from you, or the first year of adjusting to a new life. It’s a lifelong struggle to cope without your biggest fan, your closest friend, the one person who would lay all their cards down for you in the blink of an eye.

It’s difficult for me to write out these feelings, because all the while I’m thinking “There are women who HAVE their Moms and still have these struggles, there are women struggling with WAY WORSE than I am!” I feel like I don’t have the right to make this about me. But I’m TIRED of putting myself and my loss on the back burner. I’m tired of no one else being aware of these struggles. And I make a point of telling the girls I mentor that THEY ARE IMPORTANT ENOUGH to put themselves first. If they are having struggles at home, they MUST talk to someone and let someone else take on the weight of these struggles. So… if those girls are important enough, then I think I should be too. And if someone thinks I’m being selfish, I don’t need them in my life. There are only 2 people in my world who know exactly how things are, my sister and my husband. They are the only 2 who have been living this everyday life with me since the day Mom died. They are the only 2 who have the right to put me in my place if and when I need it.

If you are Motherless, this is for you: If no one has told you today… YOU ARE AMAZING, and I recognise your struggles, and I’m always thinking of you.

If you are not Motherless, tell your Mom TODAY how much you appreciate all the little things. And please don’t take her for granted. Trust me. You may wake up one morning to find that she is no longer just a phone call away.

If you are the friend of someone who is Motherless, you may not realize how important you are. Amanda could have never known how much that 20 second message meant to me, and that it helped me get through one more day. The relationship I have with my girlfriends is a gift that I gratefully accept. Without them,  I really don’t know who or where I would be.

Love you Amanda, Mel and Kim… and those others who help fill the holes in my heart, and make me a better Mom and sister and friend and woman.

There are days I catch myself staring at this little 15 month old beauty who tears around the house shrieking at the top of her lungs. She is bouncing from the loveseat arm rest to the cushy dog bed laying on the floor, to the kitchen to see what Mom is doing, and back to the living room to see if she can get her hands on the remote control or cordless phone. She has invaded this house, my bathroom, my heart. I dont really know where she came from; it seems the feeling of going to bed a teenager and waking up to find yourself smack dab in the middle of a strange adults life has come to be for me. I remember life before her. We spent 8 years as just the two of us, skiing and snowboarding, splurging on hotels and beer and dinner out. We complained a lot. We slept in a lot. We called in sick when we just didnt feel like getting out of bed. Then that morning came, and I was talked into taking “THE test”, and our world changed forever. We were thrilled, and hell, we had PLENTY OF TIME before “it” arrived! (Where did we get all that time?)

The months dragged by and then it was September, and we had to start reminding ourselves we had only weeks left to finish preparing. The Dr said “it” might come early, and “it” was kicking my butt (and bladder) on a daily basis. I started really trying to imagine the life we would soon be living. I couldn’t. Suddenly the date loomed just ahead. I had never so anxiously anticipated Halloween. But this year it was not Halloween; it was the day that stood between life as it had always been, and a gray cloudy bubble of a life we could not envision. “Its” room was painted and full of soft luxurious teddies, blankies and onesies. Then of course Halloween came and went without changing much, besides the size of my stomach, and the next few days overdue we were just passing the time. Finally, the 8th arrived with a swab and stop of the countdown. We had no time left, the Dr said, it had to come out.

She was unresponsive, a code blue. She was not given to us for 8 long minutes, but finally her pink little body, wrapped up tight, was in my arms. I saw how perfect she was. Chubby cheeks, dark hair, beautiful skin. It all made sense now! I was the Mommy of a baby GIRL! Of course I was!

The last year has been the most exhausting, overwhelming, beautiful one of our lives. Being a Mom is the most amazing gift a woman could receive, as far as I’m concerned. As she screams through the kitchen in a flury, I cant help but wonder where my tiny little innocent baby went. And at the same time, I realize how precious every moment with her is, because I know even as I write this she is growing and changing. She looks just like her Daddy, yet somehow just like her Mommy. And sometimes – when she’s climbed up and balanced on the arm of the couch pushing the buttons on the sterio – she’s like her Auntie. I know she belongs, but somedays I wonder how she got here! She is bright, healthy, loving, sweet, mischievous, funny, curious. And she has so much potential! I cant beleive that this little blonde creature is the same one that was once curled up in my tummy. Or the same little beauty who looked like an angel as a sleeping newborn.

Its so hard to believe that I am to this little girl the woman my Mother was to me. I have to remind myself how important my roll is as her Mother. Its not a terrible responsibilty to have! But its a big one. From the words coming out of my mouth, to the way I keep our home, to the way I do business, suddenly my attitude is a lot different. But I feel great about the way things are going, and I am good with the job I’m doing. I totally slack off occationally, and thats ok with me too. She needs to know I’m human. I’m not sure I will keep this up as life changes even more in the coming years, but I’ll worry about that later.

I feel like a kid still, but with a little more experience. Like someone who’s been 22 for 6 years. Now I see why people of all ages say they dont feel grown up. Its kind of a neat way to perceive life, keeps us energetic! And hopefully allows me to relate to my kids… if I’m lucky.

The roll my Mom played in my life for the 15 years I was blessed to have her keeps the bar set high for me. And I hope I have the courage and ability to meet the challenge. AND I hope and pray I will be given decades and decades to watch my kids grow up live their lives. I am so in awe of the gift Motherhood is. So far in this first year its taught me so much about life, love, and responsibility. I love the person I am raising, and I rather like the woman I am growing into. I really love the Daddy my husband has become. Parenthood has made us better people. And we have a lot of time left, so I cant imagine the possibilities! The first 15 months have been a blast, and we have nothing but more life ahead! I am so blessed, and I thank Heaven

As independant and strong as I may feel somedays, its not easy making my way without my Mom. I feel overwhelmed and frustrated many times a day, wishing I could ask her advice and get a little push from. She should be here everyday, or at least a phone call away, but she is not. Hearing her tell me I’m on the right track, or that she loves me, or that I’m completely off my rocker, is a dream that will never come true.

Over the weekend I took part in a conference for women in business, surrounded by successful, inspirational, wonderful women. These ladies wrap you in kindness, love, and support. These women, as far as I am concerned, are in my life because my Mom is not. They are gifts from heaven above, and if I have to make a go at life without my Mom, I know I can do it with these women behind me. I have so many things to be grateful for, and my Angel Mother is behind all of them. I miss her everyday, but am lucky enough to be aware of the blessings in my life that fill up the empty space her presence would otherwise be. When one door closes another opens, and for that I am so grateful. It is the reason we have the ability to thrive dispite adversity.

xoxo