Motherless Mothers

 I was 25 when my mom died fairly suddenly.  She was diagnosed with cervical cancer that March, and had a hysterectomy and radiation that spring/summer.  It hadn't metastasized, so she was given a good prognosis.  That July she started having back issues, and they progressively got worse until she was admitted to the hospital because they just couldn't figure out why her back was causing her so much pain.  Six days later she was diagnosed with acute Leukemia, and three days later she died in September.  She was 53 years old.

That first year without her was without a doubt the hardest.  I was a zombie, I was angry, sad, scared, depressed....you name it, I felt it.  Not long after she passed I discovered the book by Hope Edelman called Motherless Daughters.  Some of it was geared toward girls who lost their mothers very young, like as kids or teenagers, but for the most part it was an excellent book, and lets face it, you don't exactly stop needing your mother at 25.  I am thankful I got to experience a relationship as an adult with her, unlike those that lost their mothers as a teen or child.  But just barely....my mom and I had a difficult relationship, we often fought, we battled each other a lot, so it wasn't until I moved out on my own at 23 that our relationship improved much.  So really I had only about two years with her on pretty good terms before I lost her.  I had graduated college, but she has missed out on so many of my milestones as an adult, like graduating from grad school, getting my first real job, getting married, buying a house, having a baby....so being slightly older than the target audience for this book wasn't really that much of a problem.

I haven't gotten a chance to read much of it yet, but I recently discovered Hope wrote another book called Motherless Mothers....a book about how women relate to their own kids, when they lost their mother early on.  Again, many of the women interviewed for the book were younger, but the only stipulation to be an interviewee was that you had to have lost your mother before you became a mother yourself.

In the few chapters I have read thus far, I am really amazed at how much I do in regards to parenting Emily that I wasn't aware was related to the fact that my own mother is gone.  Now, I am sure some if not all women do this to some degree, but since becoming a mom, I fear my own death.  I've never feared my own death, always fearful of others', but the idea of not seeing her grow up, and her growing up without me is terrifying.  I am also very diligent about filling out her baby book.  I was the second born, so the fun of documenting when I went pee pee in the potty had worn off by the time I came along, not to mention just being busier and more tired with two kids.  But now that both my mom and grandma are gone, I have no idea when most of my milestones are.

My dad was able to tell me that I did walk before my first birthday, around 10 or 11 months, but that is all I know.  I also know my first word was dada, and that's only because my mom so often complained that it wasn't mama.  But I have no idea when my teeth came in, when I crawled, how long I went between crawling and walking, when I talked, etc.  My husband is a great father, but he won't know or remember this stuff.  Plus, since I am home all day with her, I notice these things.  One day I was in the shower and he came running in, exclaiming that Emily was napping and snoring.  I said I know she snores, she's been snoring for months.

So I want to make sure her baby book is well documented, just in case.  I also think a lot about talking to our prospective guardians and setting up the paper work so all of that is in place should anything ever happen to us.  I think about my mom a lot when I am with Emily, I wonder if she is watching us, I wonder if she thinks I am a good mother, and I wonder if she agrees with the things I do.  It's comforting to know that other motherless mothers do these things. 

Despite my tumultuous relationship with my mom, she was a huge comfort to me.  We fought so much, partly because I was a snotty teenager and mothers and daughters....well, their known for not getting along.  But I think we also fought a lot because we were so alike, we always had to get the last word in, we knew how to push each others' buttons.  But I remember her being so comforting and nurturing as a child.  If I hurt myself, she was there to kiss my boo boo, if I had a bad dream, she was there to comfort me, if I had a broken heart, she was there to stroke my hair and listen, and if I did anything, no matter how small the accomplishment, she was there to make me feel like I had just won a Nobel Prize. 

It's very important to me that I give that same comfort to Emily.  When she cries, I want to comfort her, when she does something good, I applaud her and make her feel like she just climbed mount everest.  I want her to remember those good times, that feeling of comfort, the feeling of being hurt or upset and knowing that mommy can make it all better.  But of course I want to be the best of both worlds too, which is the parenting I got from my dad.  When my mom was there to make it all better, he was there to knock me back to reality, being the "tough" parent who made me do what I had to do.  Is it possible to be both, in one?  I am not sure, but I'm going to try.

So, now I need to brag.  My MIL gave Emily a stuffed lamb with a little crank to make it play music, in the last few days she has discovered how to turn it so make it play.  She can't crank it a lot, but I think it's really cute.  I'll hear the music on the monitor and then I'll realize she made the music go.  I know I've said this a million times, but she's sooooo close to crawling.  I don't know what she is doing now, it's not as smooth as an army crawl, but she does somehow get from point A to point B.  She does a lot of turning and spinning and then I think she just kind of flails around enough until she makes some progress.  Everyday I hold my breath as she is doing tummy time, waiting for the moment that she crawls.

This afternoon I sat her in her crib to play while I cleaned out her closet.  She was making lots of noise, grunting and yelling and screeching, and every so often I would turn around and she'd be smiling back at me.  So then I got lost in my organization, and I heard some zombie-like breathing so I turned around, and there she is looking pleased as punch, standing in her crib.  Whoa, time to lower the mattress.  I'm so proud of her.  She's growing too fast, but I cannot contain my pride when she does something new.