Mothering without your mom…

I lost my mom when I was 21. It feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. I think about who I was then, compared to who I am now — it feels like nothing has changed, and at the same time everything has.

I have done life without my mom. There have been missed milestones, and I have grieved her loss. She missed my college graduation, my sisters high school graduation, didn’t watch us as we found our careers, and she never met C. I had time to process her death at the end of her life, she had been diagnosed with brain cancer in 1997 and fought bravely, gracefully, and with every fiber of her being until 2011.

She was a fearless badass. She always blamed her crazy thoughts on ‘the garden weed growing in her head’, and would laugh to herself knowing they were all her own thoughts (and not a result of her brain tumor). My sister and I reflect on things she would do or say and we play the game “Cancer or Crazy” trying to determine whether something was because of her cancer or if she was just straight up crazy. Newsflash crazy almost always won— she was just nuts and full of life. My older cousins laugh and tell us she was the crazy aunt of the family… or as the irish say “the mad auntie”. She was a legend in more ways than one. If I can become half the woman she was, I will call it a win.

My original due date with Chaos, was my moms birthday. I should have known then that I was in for a hell of a ride… She was a force to be reckoned with, and lived by her own rules. My sister and I often laugh as we think about her as a “Glamma”. If you knew her, the name fits… nothing else would have worked — she was sweet, spicy & sassy. She wouldn’t have listened to any rules, probably would have picked Chaos up from daycare without giving us a heads up, and not have thought twice about why a warning was necessary (“Well sure, he was safe wasn’t he? He wasn’t lost!”). Honestly I’d probably just have given up and put an airtag on them both and called it a day.

Mothering without my mom is a different experience than that of my friends who still have their moms. In the dark quiet moments of postpartum they had a safe space who knew everything about them, and had “done this before”. Someone you aren’t ashamed to ask, “Hey I need more pads… you know the ones. Can you grab some and drop them off?” As a friend I would do this for anyone, and I know that my friends would have done the same for me in an instant — I just never asked. My postpartum recovery also was the furthest thing from typical, so even if she was here I probably wouldn’t have been able to ask for as much help anyways 🤣

Don’t get me wrong, I am very blessed to have multiple mom-figures in my life… and I am eternally grateful for each and every one of them. My mother in law “GaGa” as she is known in our family, is incredible. She treats me as her own, and for that I am forever grateful.

I think a lot about the things I would ask my mom about motherhood…. like we’re all really just winging it and hoping for the best? Does it really matter that my kid will not eat a vegetable? Am I a bad mom for needing a minute to just take a deep breath as my child flails on the floor screaming for the 97th time today? Is everyone else this obsessed with their kid? How do you keep a straight face when they are having a tantrum and its lowkey hilarious?

It would be nice to be able to hear her voice and see her interact with Chaos, to see her eyes light up with whatever crazy thought she was about to speak into existance. She also would have adored the dog, and probably would have taken him as her own if we let her.

I see her spirit in my fearless son, acting on sheer ambition and not thinking about the consequences. He also definitely got his flair for medical dramatics from her… She had a few hospital stints herself. Chaos has started climbing over the arm of the couch, sliding down to the floor and landing on his feet. He turns to look at us and starts clapping, as if we are supposed to applaud him doing ninja moves that are borderline unsafe, although executed flawlessly with precision and confidence. But Glamma…she was definitely cheering— probably put the idea in his head to begin with.

I think what I miss most about her as an adult is the quiet comfort she brought. How she could make me a cup of tea, sit on the couch, and force a laugh even on the hard days. Hearing her tell me “A good cry and a nap can fix anything.” She was the queen of naps, lived for a good middle of the day snooze. She always seemed to have a helpful solution when there was a real issue. She loved a good philosophical chat, usually at the most inopportune times, but can you really time those?