Now I would give anything for a sweet momma peck on the lips.
Sometimes I think I miss her more now that I am a momma myself. I feel like I understand her more. I get some of the quirks and the ways she would annoy me. I also enjoy annoying my babies.
I think what I really miss, is having someone I can call or ask questions to when I start wondering about my own infancy or milestones or experiences.
Was I a good sleeper?
Did she nurse, bottle feed or both?
Did she experience ppd after birth. Or after weaning like I did? Or at all?
Did she and dad argue about names?
Did she miss having her own momma to share these thoughts/feelings/ experienced with?
Did she ever just stare at her babies in wonder too?
What was is like when she had 2 miscarriages? How did she cope?
Was she scared during labor? Was anyone with her?
What did she do when a fever went up?
How did she discipline early on?
What did she do for self care with 3 little littles?
Did she feel guilt over calling a babysitter?
With 1,001 questions, I want to dial up heaven. Have some coffee and a mom to mom chat session.
I wish she were here to criticize my parenting.
Or tell me that I will get through the terrible 3's
To compare notes
To beam with pride at my babies.
The babies she used to harrass me to have. My daughter, who bears her name, has tiny tiny feet like she did. My sons hair is blonde, just like hers. I wish she could see them. Hold them.
Mother's Day can be bittersweet. It symbolizes both my greatest gift and accomplishment. Yet also my greatest loss.
It does me little good to linger over what I do not have. I do acknowledge my grief. It seeps into the littles cracks of every day life. It cannot be helped. And sometimes I am sad about it.
But I must also trust who she raised me to be. And accept what is. I think she she did well.
Her legacy lives on in 2 precious faces.
Until we meet again.