Hello all and welcome back to my blog. I wanted to share with you a new series for this month called #Mothers in honour of Mother’s day coming up this Sunday. I will be posting about this series every Thursday as well as having a guest post from my sister, Jen on Sundays. I am very excited about this series because this is a topic that is very dear to me. I’m going to be honest that this post was very dear to me and it was hard for me to get out, but I really wanted this to be part of the whole series.
Living a life without a Mother
Mother’s day is hard for me, but not because I’m missing my mom – I mean I am, just not in the way that you think of. I’m missing the idea of a mom, my mom. It’s like this void in my soul that just can’t be filled no matter how hard I try. It’s this whole other person that helped to create me that I’ve never known.
I miss this important person in my life whom I’ve never even met.
I hear this lot – in my teenage years about how silly my mother was, or how strong she was. She was this petite Mexican American woman who taught at an all-boys school in Chicago, Il. She was soft yet stern at the same time. She was a woman that when she talked you listened, you listened because she had this way about her that just connected to people. She was warm and soft and had a sense of humour…
She was this perfect woman and I never got to meet her.
She died on the table after they cut me out of her. My father explains that when they were performing the surgery they didn’t notice that the placenta was in the front and they cut right into that. They mixed her blood together with mine and I guess her body didn’t like it. It fought it – the foreign substance – me. Her body fought and fought and was having trouble clotting so every transfusion that they gave her just came pouring out. My father explains that the doctor came down to see him after they pronounced her. The doctor was soaked in blood – her blood.
She died on the cold metal table while another nurse took me away.
It has taken awhile for me to understand what happened that day. I think it was due to the fact that it was so traumatic for my father that he just couldn’t take answering my questions. So I stopped asking.
But, it never really got me to understand her.
It’s hard to go through my life from then on hearing how much I may look like her, sound like her, or even sometimes act like her. Who is her? I couldn’t ask the questions for fear of my father’s tears and heart breaking all over again.
How do you deal with life without a mother?
I mean, I had a few women over the years that tried to fill that role. It was harder to fill once I knew why there was emptiness inside of me from losing her. Some women tried to be the friend first or the motherly figure, but I rebelled.
Once my father told me the truth I think that it was hard to accept my step-mother in. I was lied to for my whole life up until then and she too was abandoning me. After that I think I just stopped letting females in – I felt too much like they would simply abandon me. Not a healthy thought, but after finding things out and dealing with depression and anxiety it made sense at the time.
My father became my mother after a while. Once he was able to get over the heavy loss of a failed marriage. He did things that a mother would usually do. He brushed my hair – or attempted to. He didn’t learn the art of holding the locks so not to pull on the head while brushing out a tangle. He let me sleep in his bed when I was sick – even after I puked in it at 2 am. He listened to me gush about boys when I was older and even had to explain to me the whole first period thing. I think that he was more mortified about that situation than I was.
He became both figures, but try as he might he knew that there was something missing. I don’t think that I’ve really had a stable relationship with another older female besides my sister in a while. That is not until he married B. I’ll talk about her some other time.
Living an adult life without a mother
From time to time I find it hard not having her around. So many questions I want to ask her. Like, how did she know that dad was the one for her? Would she be proud of me today? What does she like most about Travis? Or even … what was being pregnant like for her? Did she enjoy it even though both pregnancies she was sick and constantly in and out of the hospital. Was it worth it? If she could redo her life would she choose to have me?
So many questions left unanswered. And yet while I grew up… I still am left with this big gaping hole in my soul.
But, I have to believe that though she isn’t physically there – I still feel her… here.