Mom

Nine years ago yesterday my mom turned forty-seven.  On June second it will be nine years since she died.  Five years ago I found out I was pregnant.  In November it will be four years since since I became a mother.  And every day I'm lost as I navigate being a mother with no guide.

I look at other parents who seem to have it all under control.  Who knows if they do or not, but they've sure got me fooled.  What is it that gives them their confidence?  The ease with which they are in control?  Is it their age?  Is it their personality?  Or is it because when they have a question they have a mother to ask?

Bringing home a newborn was the scariest experience of my life.  I had thought that being twenty and telling my dad I was pregnant was scary.  Going to my ultra-sound and actually seeing the child for whom I was responsible, the creeping knowledge that I was somebody's mother.  That going into that delivery room knowing that somehow this seemingly massive child inside me would have to come out. 

But these things were nothing compared to the feeling of helplessness as I was wheeled out of the hospital, ushered into the blinding November light, abandoned by the nurses that had kept me afloat for three days, and left with a bundle of baby that I was supposed to mold into a happy, healthy person.

I had this idea that it would be a long time before I became a mother so I avoided all the issues that come along with motherless mothering- I would deal with it later.  And in a perfect world, I would have.  But that was a foolish idea as there's really no preparation you can do anyways.  I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to call her.  In my haze of postpartum depression I actually picked up the phone a few times and realized that there was no number I could dial.  Sure I have people who offer to be there for me, who say that they'll help out in whatever way they can.  But you can't call those people at four in the morning when you're too depressed to form a cohesive thought and you don't really know what you need anyways.  You juat know that you need something.  When you're drowning the only person you really want is your mother.

It's because mothers know us so well, sometimes better than we know ourselves, because we are of them.  Because mothers give so much for their children they can anticipate needs and are there even when we haven't asked them to be and don't think we need them.  And because we all want to know that we are the light of someone's life, that there's someone who has, and always will, give everything for us and loves us completely for who we are.   

Maybe this is why much of the time I feel as if I've lost my compass.  I'm out at sea and I have no idea where I am or where I'm trying to go and I feel my boat taking on water.  Yeah, I know my mom's still watching over me, but that doesn't help me much when she can't respond.

I'm sure any psychologist will tell you that my collection is an attempt to recreate some of what I lost with my mother.  It's a lousy second best, but it's what I'm working with and, you know what, it gives me solace.

Lou is named after my mom and every day she is a reminder that my mom still lives with us, even if it feels like in name only.  She is my biggest challenge and I would give anything to ask my mom's advice as I try to figure out how to be the best mother to her I can be.  But Lou is also an enormous blessing and I know that my mom does guide me, and when I let Lou down, I let down my mother as well.  I only had her for fifteen years, but she was a wonderful mother, and by being a good mom myself, I can honor the hard work she did in those fifteen years.

And let's be honest, even if you have a mother it doesn't mean she's a good one; and being human means that we are bound to disappoint.  I have to remind myself of this and remember the many people I know who are incredible human beings who had lousy mothers.  And before I wallow too far in self-pity I have to remember that my mom (and lovely Auntie) didn't have her mom either and she did just fine. 

Someday I'll see her again, and when I do we're going to have a lot of catching up to do.  But it's only on my end because my mom's been here the whole time.

Until then I'll keep her in mind, try to get a hold of my counting obsession, and try to get to know her as best I can from those who knew her well.  That's the best way to judge whether or not I'm living up to what she wanted me to be. 

I guess I haven't totally lost my compass, it's just that now it's written in a code I must decipher.