There’s a tale in my family about how my great-grandfather and his seven siblings all agreed to reunite in Nova Scotia after departing from the “Old World.” However, my great-grandfather found himself in St. Paul, MN, and it’s from him that we inherit our notorious poor sense of direction. For the past two decades, I have frequently found myself lost, relying on maps, then MapQuest, and now the convenience of GPS and Waze. Without these navigational aids, I would be utterly adrift.
In my life, my true compass was my mother. She served as my guiding light, my north star. I would often call her three to five times a day. She was present for the births of both my children, and during a job interview, when asked how I tackle complex problems, I proudly said, “I first consult my mom — she’s my go-to for advice.”
Somehow, she had the perfect balance of support and honesty. I married my soulmate, but my mother was my other half. Just last week, I witnessed her take her final breath. Now, I find myself navigating life without her guidance. I am not only mourning the loss of the most incredible person I’ve ever known, but I also feel lost without my north star.
What do I do when my daughter showcases an incredible lip-sync performance and I want to share it with my mom? Who do I reach out to when I’m faced with a conflict with my husband? Who will reassure me when I feel like I’m failing as a mother? I have a support system — my friends, my brother, my dad, my husband — but none can fill the void left by my mother.
In the past couple of weeks, I have shed countless tears. Despite my sorrow, I’ve managed to gain some perspective. I watched my mother pass; she did not have to witness my demise. While her life ended too soon, I recognize it’s how it should be. I treasure the fact that she lived for 16 years after a devastating cancer diagnosis, enjoying 14 years of good health. She attended my wedding and formed bonds with my children, relationships I once feared she wouldn’t have the chance to cultivate. These memories are precious, yet they do not fill the aching void in my heart.
During this difficult time, my community has rallied around us. The love poured out for my mother from her lifelong friends and newer acquaintances has been overwhelming. When I returned from Florida to sit shiva, my home was filled with people, many of whom never met her but knew her through my stories. My friends, neighbors, and family have provided meals, rides, hugs, and countless check-in calls. Still, I grapple with how to move forward in a world without my mother’s guidance.
I understand that I am not alone in this experience; many people have the incredible fortune of having had the best mothers. Yet, right now, I feel the loss of my mentor, my best friend, and my hero. People often say, “She is always with you,” which feels like a platitude in my current state. While I believe this to be true, I’m just trying to figure out how to navigate life blindfolded, pretending I can see.
In times like these, it’s crucial to lean on resources and support systems. For those considering a path to motherhood, exploring options such as home insemination can provide valuable insights. Check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination from the CDC. Also, if you’re looking for reliable products, consider checking out the offerings from CryoBaby, which specializes in home insemination kits.
The journey through grief is complex, and while the memories provide some comfort, the absence of my mother leaves a significant gap in my life.
Summary:
Losing a mother is a profound experience, often leaving one feeling lost and adrift. In the absence of her guidance, the author reflects on cherished memories and the support of a loving community, while grappling with the reality of navigating life without her north star. The piece emphasizes the importance of community support and offers resources for those exploring home insemination as a path to motherhood.