The Newborn Motherless Era
Finding out I was pregnant was one of the most joyous moments of my life. It drew a line between a hoping, wanting, ‘maybe one day I will be lucky enough to be a mum’ Lou, and made it a reality. In all honesty, I was really scared about becoming a mum too. I worried I wouldn’t be able to cope with the sleeplessness, the intensity of it all and most of all, doing it without my kind, gentle, tender mum Angie to guide me through.
Once I had come through the 20-week mark and medical tests had confirmed the baby was growing well, like many I felt able to connect more emotionally with the pregnancy. It was actually happening and I could start to engage with this new world of becoming a mum. And what this would look like without Mum.
Carrying the weight of motherlessness compounded when I started antenatal classes. Discussions flowed around maternal support, mums as birthing partners and the help people had already planned to receive from their parents. Throughout pregnancy I carried a dull ache in the pit of my stomach and a tightness in the back of my throat and it started to intensify. I realised, as I got closer to meeting my baby, my ability to hold my emotions in a composed and controlled way was starting to be tested.
When my son arrived, it felt like everything of the past was healed. I was instantly calmer, more present and able to throw the grieving, empty corner of my heart into him. I was so prepared to break down that I absolutely made sure that I didn’t. I did the opposite. On day three post birth, the day you are warned about being the equivalent of an emotional car crash due to hormonal changes, I made sure I did not cry. I was almost too positive. Surely if I could negate the effects of motherlessness through the overwhelming love for my newborn child, I could get through this all pretty easily. How wrong I was.
About a week in, I completely lost my way. I felt the shutters come down around me and I knew I couldn’t fight the feelings of loss anymore. I missed Mum so much, I just struggled to say it aloud. I was so scared letting go would lead me to darkness and to a place of no return. In actual fact, by acknowledging just how hard it all was felt freeing, and doubly freeing to point out that I was entitled to feel completely undone while feeling elation like never before.
The haze of newborn motherlessness hasn’t shrunk or gone away. I am dealing with hard emotions every single day - sometimes repeat offenders of jealousy and resentment, sometimes unfiltered anger and ungratefulness of those who love me most. Mums and their mums walking past me on the street with their shiny new prams, doting on their newborns together. Coffee dates in department stores, grandma holding the bags and cutting up her daughter’s food so she can eat whilst she feeds her baby. Meanwhile I look on at their table alone, sat with my baby while I sip my coffee. I am jarred, halted in my tracks. I take a moment to acknowledge how jealous I am and how unfair it is that I can’t do that. I should be able to do that. Why can’t I do that? Why did this have to happen? I want to leave. Get me out of here.
I guess this is my new chapter of grief - my motherless chapter of emptiness while feeling fuller than I have ever felt.