Mom-ing Without a Mom

I will sit and talk to you about my mom all day long.  And I have sat and talked with many about my mom.  But I’ve never talked about my mom like this.

I miss my mom.  It stinks.  I know I am not the first person to mom without her mom, and I won’t be the last, but it doesn’t change the fact that it just. plain. stinks.

My mom battled and won a fight against breast cancer in 2005.  I had never seen her fight so hard in my 25 years of life as I did that year.  She fought as hard as she could to overcome the disease.  She had too much life left to live and she wasn’t going to succumb to this cancer.  And she didn’t.  She beat it!  She was in her prime and a much healthier place in her life and was in the reconstructive stages.  I had never seen her more excited than she was about getting her “perfect boobs” and I was just as excited for her (and maybe a bit envious), too. 

Fast forward to 2008.  My mom was scheduled for her annual check-up with her Oncologist that January.  Something wasn’t right at her check-up and her Oncologist ended up admitting her to the hospital to have some tests and scans done.  My mom was in the hospital an hour away from where we all live, but faithfully, my dad was at the hospital every single day, and between my siblings and I, we made sure we were there, too, because little did we know that the next few days would take us to some of the most heart-wrenching days to come.

By my definition, my mom was a fighter.  And this recurrence of breast cancer would be no different when it came to her fight.  Or so I thought.  This time, the disease had metastasized and was proving to be aggressive.  Treatment, in turn, was very aggressive and because of the aggressive nature of the treatment, it took a toll on her.  She spent more days sick in bed than not while trying to sleep away that secondary pain she had after treatment.  Eventually, the unbelievably hard decision would be made and she would enter in-home hospice care.  She wasn’t giving up.  She was giving herself a life in which she would be able to enjoy.  Spending time with her family.  Eating.  Reading.  Watching movies.  Reminiscing.  I spent every waking moment I could with my mom over the next 3 1/2 months.  Lots of laughs.  Lots of stories.  I shed lots of tears and got “yelled” at lots of times for said tears by my mom (this is crazy to think, but every time I see us lying there, me with tears in my eyes and her knowing there were tears, I smile because I still feel this moment.  I can still hear her “yell” at me for those tears).  She was supposed to be a grandma to my babies.  I just needed her to be okay and for her to overcome this, in reality, knowing she wouldn’t.  I was being selfish.

After my mom passed away, I would encounter more trials and tribulations, but in true “I am my mothers-daughter” fashion, I would overcome them. 

I met my best friend and soul mate.  We fell in love and talked about our future.  Marriage.  Jobs.  Children.  My now husband proposed to me and we started planning our wedding.  Without my mom.  You’d think after 6 years, I would be able to “deal” with it a little better, her not being here.  Ha.  And just when I thought I was doing okay as we approached our wedding day, I found out that I was pregnant.  I needed my mom.  Again.

I had my loving, caring husband with me throughout my pregnancy journey, and my daddy was there to get all the updates, but something was missing.  My mom.  She had been through this many times (I come from a family of 5 siblings) and she could ease my mind and answer my questions.  She would know.  Why isn’t she here?  My dear husband knew how hard it was on my heart that my mom was missing.  He comforted and reassured me so many times, still to this day, that she is near and knows what is going on and that our daughter knows who she is.

On a recent car ride to visit my daddy, I said to JoLynn (my daughter), “are we going to see your grandpa before he leaves?”  She replied in her cheery 2 year old voice, “sure!  And grandma?”  And just like that, tears.  I said, “no baby girl, grandma isn’t there with grandpa.”  Which of course followed the question, “why?”  I know my daughter doesn’t understand yet, and was just asking in what seemed to be natural conversation.  Or maybe she does understand. 

My mom has missed some pretty important points in my life (yes, I’m being selfish again):  the happiest day in June when I married my best friend, the happiest day in January when we welcomed our daughter into this world.  Many birthday’s, anniversaries and holidays.  But my daughter will know that she is one of her namesakes. She will see pictures and she will hear stories.  Over and over and over again, because I need to know that my daughter knows how important her grandma was, and still is, to me.  And that her grandma is always just a look over the shoulder away for her.

I have lots of “moms”.  My baby sister, though having no children, is still mom-like to me with all of my questions.  I have my mother-in-law and my best girlfriends that are moms.  Growing up, I belonged to the youth organization The International Order of the Rainbow for Girls, that brought into my life so many wonderful mom-like figures.  I have my mom-tribe within this awesome network of women I write with.  But at the end of the day, all I want is MY MOM.  No one will ever replace her.  No one. My Mother taught he everything, except how to live without her.

Stop now.  Call your mom.  Text your mom.  Tell her you love her.  Thank her for everything.  Hug her and give her a kiss.  Because there is nothing I wouldn’t give to be able to say and do those same things to my mom.