I go to bed at night depressed, sad, defeated. Most new moms cannot wait to get into bed, but not me. While I absolutely melt holding my new son, I cannot help but feel the void left by my mother.
My brother in law tells me I need to give time time. My therapist confirms that I am still in mourning. And all of the women who have lost their mother that I have spoken to me tell me that they still miss there mom, whether its been ten years or ten months.
A friend of my sisters tells her that after losing his mother at 95 when he was 67 feels like an orphan. I feel like an orphan. I know I have a great family, a loving husband who is a fantastic dad, an amazing sister, an inappropriate brother, two impressive grandmothers, an emotionally immature but loving father. But they are not my mom.
It’s so hard coming home and not seeing my message light blinking on the answering machine. I wanted so badly to report to her what happened at the pediatrician’s office. I want her opinion, her advice, her ear. I want my mom, my best friend.
I can go from beaming happiness to a flood of tears thinking about her and how I only have a finite number of memories and experiences with her. We were incredibly close and I know most people do not spend half of the time I did with my mom, let alone quality time, and that I am so lucky. But wow, it really does not numb the pain.
I’m going to migrate downstairs in the hopes of getting my newborn to sleep.