This day that year – Coping with the loss of My Mother while pregnant

This day that year – Coping with the loss of My Mother while pregnant

Some beautiful moments with my mother from my marriage!

It’s been two years since she is not with us anymore. Who is she? She is my mother. Today is her second death anniversary and all the memories related to that dreadful day that is still fresh in my mind come gushing in. All this while I had kept myself shut.  I had decided I would share my feelings when it would be a lot less hurting. But only recently I realized that there won’t be any time when I would not feel the void that the loss of my mother has created in my heart, and in my life. Tears roll down as I write this, but this time I have decided there’s no easy way to it and there’s going to be none in the years to come.

The truth that my mother isn’t here anymore took a while to sink in. I was unable to comprehend how she could have gone just like that. I had just talked to her the same morning, though not for long as she wasn’t allowed to use phones due to the surgery. My greatest regret is that I didn’t even get to say my final goodbye.

That fateful day, on hearing her sudden demise people had started pouring in, in great numbers. My mother was the kindest soul there could ever exist. The lives of the people she had touched, the lives of the people she had influenced, directly or indirectly, all of them were visiting to pay her their last tribute, to show their deepest condolences. They especially came up to me to console me as I was in the most vulnerable, the most fragile state anyone could be in. But my heart was beyond any consolation for the pain I felt was unendurable. I knew they meant well. But the loss was beyond repair. My life, my world was in a total wreck – shattered into the smallest of pieces which couldn’t be put back together even if I wanted to. I was growing an innocent life inside me, the most blessed of things any woman could do and it somehow felt as though it was the biggest sin at the moment.

And I didn’t want to listen to all that, “It happens”, “Life is cruel”, “It has happened with me”, “I know how you feel” – meaningless stuff. To all those people who kept telling me not to cry, not to stress, I wanted to shout to their faces, at the top of my voice, that nobody can know how it felt at the time even if they have been there, just nobody. And none of their words were good enough to give me comfort, to give me peace, which could take away the suffering; none of them at all. I was in a state of utter anguish. I wanted to cry, I wanted to mourn the massive loss and here people were asking me not to, as it could harm the baby. Instead, I kept staring at their faces, blank, without any expression, for being so insensitive. I knew they meant well, but I didn’t want their sympathy. I didn’t want anybody to pity me. I wanted to be alone – just me and her memories, and oh, my unborn baby.

I was going to become a mother myself and I cared least for the impeccant life growing inside me! I confess I am guilty of feeling that way when all I could do was praise for the blessing I was bestowed with when one life was taken. I was torn between what was right and what I wanted. It ached from not being able to cry as much as I wanted to for the very fact that it would harm the baby. I wasn’t even allowed to attend her last rites since I was carrying for some stupid custom where pregnant ladies are shunned from it. I cursed myself for it. She was my mother goddamn it. And I will have to live with this regret, forever.

Some lovely moments with my mother from my graduation!

For the countless days that followed, while on one hand each one of us tried to stay strong for each other as we began wearing our strongest facade of a face, trying to hide what an emotional wreck each one was inside. On the other hand, each one kept trying to find nooks, corners, and places to secretly cry their heart out so that the others didn’t know about it, only for the fact that those swollen, puffy tear-ridden eyes gave way to what exactly the other was feeling.

She was the first one we had broken the news that we were expecting. She had already bought stuff for her would-be-grandchild and even knitted booties and mittens as we were going to have a winter baby. I wanted to share so much with her, ask her so much.

“What it was like when my mother was pregnant with me?”

“What it was like to raise me?”

“How was I as a baby?”

“Did I trouble her a lot?”

“Does my child bear an uncanny resemblance to what I was as a kid?”

I am left with so many unanswered questions. I cannot help but wonder. It’s difficult to be living a life without her. Sometimes I feel it’s just a bad dream and when I open my eyes she will be there, only that it’s an ugly reality we have to live with every day. There’s this gutted feeling in the stomach all the time, cringing me constantly. This entire void only lets me believe what mothers mean to their children; what I, as a mother, mean to my baby.

I would have gone into depression if it hadn’t been for Mr. Husband. He has been this unwavering source of strength this whole time. He was there to be the pillar every time I needed to lean on. He was the shoulder each time I used to cry on. He is the witness of the tiniest tear that has ever gleamed in my eyes.

Now two years later, with Shaarav in our lives, it still hurts the same way; only the expression of it has changed. I share stories of my mother, I share stories about her, and I share her stories, to find ways to keep her in our thoughts, to keep her alive in our memories. I find ways to make Shaarav get acquainted with his “Naani” whom he couldn’t meet from the memories I have of her, tell him how she would have said or what she would have done if she was here with us today. And let me tell you, even at this tender age Shaarav knows who his “Naani” was and he has already grown fond of her. Alas, I still can’t help thinking and be wondering how different our lives would be if she was here with us today. Read my earlier post on “Surviving the Loss of Your Mother while Pregnant”, from Mr. Husband’s point of view.

Love,

Mrs. Sunshine

May her smile continue to make our lives bright and beautiful!

Hits: 847

8 Replies to “This day that year – Coping with the loss of My Mother while pregnant”

  1. I am so sorry for your loss. You are correct that you will always feel that loss. I lost my own mother in 2011 and there are often time when I want to call her and share some news with her and I just break down in tears. I was recently talking with my Aunt about her Mother, my Grandmother, who passed away about 45 years ago and my Aunt said “I miss her so much”. It was only after losing my own mother that I could really understand how she felt. Sending you hugs.

    1. Thank you so much. It breaks my heart to not find her beside when I need her the most. But I’m trying to find ways to celebrate her life instead of mourning her death. I know for sure that she is showering her love on us from up there. Thanks for the comment and I feel the same way for you. But we have to stand strong for our family and not give in to the sadness. Such is life…it goes on!

  2. You may not be able to cry out at that time, neither you’d been allowed near her at the last moment of farewell to bid her goodbye, nobody could possibly ever understand what your loss has been……. I don’t know how you feel but I can say I had experienced the same for my Naani…. I hope Shaarav will know more about his Naani……. Because really Grandmothers are the most valuable gift to us grandchildren;.

    People always assure my mother with sympathy because call it a destiny or what …???
    Please smile because you were atleast there at that time….. my mom wasn’t even able to reach to the funeral of her mother.
    After few days my aunt came with sympathy and all, but my mom replied “my mom has gone back from where she had come, and we all have to one day return to the God, because no one is going to live forever&#8221.

    I’m happy you shared the most breaking feelings of yours….
    Stay strong.

    1. Thank you for your support. It really needs an empathetic heart to know the pain I went through. As much as I would have wanted her to be here with me I make peace knowing that she must be in a better place…Thanks for taking time to go through the post and commenting on it. It means a lot!

  3. No matter how old a child grows, he/she is never ready for a parent’s loss. I’m sorry for your loss. Stay strong, girl! *hugs*

  4. You are incredibly inspiring and I really admire your strength of even sharing such a personal experience with others 💛

    1. Thank you. I do appear to be courageous to share such a heartfelt part of my life but every time I attempted to give my words to my emotions or every time I read it, it still becomes difficult to hold back tears. But I had to do it, not only to document my feelings and sentiments, but also to get some kind of closure. And I think it has helped to do so to some extent. That void will still remain but it helps to live through the pain. Thanks.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

This website stores some user agent data. These data are used to provide a more personalized experience and to track your whereabouts around our website in compliance with the European General Data Protection Regulation. If you decide to opt-out of any future tracking, a cookie will be set up in your browser to remember this choice for one year. I Agree, Deny
638
%d bloggers like this: