Putting these words to paper has been a real challenge, as it feels like sealing a chapter I’m still struggling to comprehend. Embracing the reality of my grief, which has lingered for over three years, makes me want to flee my computer, binge-watch a show, and pour myself a generous glass of wine.
Her name was Lily. She was my mother and my greatest supporter. I lost her in July.
Reflecting on it, I realize I’ve been in a state of anticipatory grief since the day my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I’ve been processing my feelings—thinking, crying, and memorializing her—ever since. This diagnosis came just days after I shared the news of my twin pregnancy.
And thus began our intertwined journeys. While she faced the loss of her reproductive system—the very one that brought me into the world—I was using mine to welcome two beautiful girls. The connection between us was undeniable.
As I navigated my own grief, I still had to be fully present during the relentless demands of motherhood. Breastfeeding two, sleep training two, and managing meltdowns from two—it was quite the whirlwind. My little ones, now preschoolers, are incredibly perceptive and can pick up on shifts in energy. So, how do you show up for your kids while grieving? This has been one of the most challenging yet enlightening aspects of my journey.
Here are three key takeaways I’ve discovered:
- Set the Emotional Tone.
As parents—especially moms—we inherently set the emotional atmosphere in our homes. This doesn’t mean pretending to be perfect. It means being genuine. Acknowledging my emotions has helped me navigate the heavy feelings surrounding my mom’s diagnosis and decline. - My daughters often ask, “Are you happy or sad?” I’m open about my sadness, and when they offer hugs, I affirm, “That helps me feel better.” However, kids are also intuitive; they sense when I’m emotionally drained, and those are often the moments they demand my attention the most.
- I’ve leaned on my support system for help with school pickups and playdates, ensuring I’m not overwhelmed. I’ve recognized that when I’m in the thick of grief, it’s okay to lower the parenting standards. As my mom would say, it’s time for “good enough” parenting. This means being okay with extra screen time and letting them explore parks while I take a breather. By prioritizing my emotional well-being, I can be more present for my girls as they navigate their own emotional landscapes.
- A Legacy Lives On.
I’ve been cherishing my mom’s wisdom through late-night texts, old emails, and the little sayings she crafted for our family. I keep a notebook to collect these reminders, which helps me remember the imprint she left on my daughters’ lives. Phrases like “love is an action” and “feelings are real” will forever resonate. - Even if someone’s physical presence fades, the influence they have on your children is everlasting. I also created a digital book titled The Story of GranLily, showcasing her interactions with my twins from day one. It’s a comforting read whenever they miss her, and it serves as a reminder for me as well.
- I’ve come to realize that time is never enough. Whether I had five minutes or fifty years with my mom, I would always feel like I was shortchanged. Yet, I also choose to celebrate the quality time we had together.
- Kids Grieve in Waves (and So Do Adults).
Several months after losing her, my mom remains a regular topic with my 3-year-olds. Their comments range from “Mummy, if you want to see your mummy, you have to die too” to “I miss her,” and the sweet sentiment of “Mummy, GranLily lives in our hearts now.” - I once spoke with a wonderful grief counselor who explained that children grieve in waves. One moment they’re expressing sadness, and seconds later, they’re off to a new activity, singing or asking for a snack.
- When I told my daughters about their grandmother’s passing (and yes, I was advised to use clear terms like “died from cancer,” “her body stopped working,” etc.), I anticipated an emotional response. Instead, they listened, hugged me, asked if their grandfather had cancer, and quickly returned to their day.
- I experience similar waves of grief. I can go from laughter to deep sorrow in an instant. Over time, I’m learning to accept that the depth of my grief reflects the depth of my love.
Ultimately, one of the most significant lessons I’ve learned is that we never truly “get over” grief. We develop strategies to manage it. There’s a parallel with motherhood; we never really escape the exhaustion or anxiety, but we adapt, recalibrate, and greet each day anew.
For me, mothering through grief means embracing the messiness of life. It’s a journey filled with sadness, beauty, and profound humanity. By modeling healthy emotional processing and sharing my mother’s legacy with my children, we can all navigate those waves together.