There's a special kind of loss, special kind of lost, special kind of terror in preparing to be a mother without your own mother. The scared times you can't turn to her hurt like the happy excitement you can't share with her. The knowing that even though every mother is responsible for her child, you won't be able to draw on her wisdom and support breeds a scared for which I wasn't prepared. The knowing she won't be able to see what you've made and delight in your baby is unbearable.
As usual, my reason for sharing so openly about grief is to teach a lesson. It's important that in the weeks leading up to something as life altering as birth and in the first weeks and months of something as huge as motherhood, we are available for those who undertake these tasks with a measure of grief. These are times when it can be very hard to be present with someone, when the urge to reassure them that it's fine, that their loved one is "with them," that they'll do just fine can be very strong. As the friend of the grieving, it can be extremely difficult in this time to leave feelings unresolved, but the ultimate gift is to be present, to tend to and care for as your friend makes this transition, to provide practical comforts (food and time) and to give love knowing feelings won't resolve and grief and intense happiness will co-exist as they always do in this world.
Today, our lovely friends are getting together to celebrate me and Camilo and our baby boy and I will see a mommy-shaped hole in the day even as I experience great happiness and excitement at seeing all our friends and gratitude at their celebrating us. Joy and pain co-mingle because that's life. It's unresolved and one won't cancel out the other. It's a richer, fuller emotional experience that grief brings.
