Mother's Manifesto

Mother's Day Manifesto

I am a bereaved mother. But I am still a mother. My child died, and this is my reluctant path, one I must walk mindfully and with intention. It is a journey through the darkest night of my soul, and it will take time to wind through the places that scare me.

There are times when it feels like every cell in my body aches, longing to be with my child. On days when grief is loud, I may be impatient, distracted, frustrated, and unfocused. I may get angry more easily, or I may seem hopeless. I will shed many, many, many tears. In the beginning, I won’t smile as often as my old self. Most everything hurts some days, even breathing.

But please, just sit beside me.

Say nothing.

Do not offer a cure.

Or a pill, or a word, or a potion.

Witness my suffering and don't turn away from me.

Please be gentle with me.

And I will try to be gentle with myself too.

I will not ever "get over" my child's death so please don’t urge me down that path.

Even on days when grief is more quiet, when it isn't standing loudly in the foreground, even on days when I am able to smile again, the grief is just beneath the surface.

There are days when I still feel paralyzed and in disbelief. How is this my life? My chest feels the sinking weight of my child's absence and, sometimes, I feel as if I will explode from the grief.

Losing my child affects me in so many ways: as a woman, a mother, a human being, spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally. There are days when I barely recognize myself in the mirror anymore.

Grief is as personal to me as my fingerprint. Don't tell me how I should or shouldn’t be grieving or that I should or shouldn’t “feel better by now.” Don't tell me what's right or wrong. I'm doing it my way, in my time. If I am to survive this, I must do what is best for me.

My understanding of life will change and a different meaning of life will slowly evolve. What I knew to be true or absolute or real or fair about the world has been challenged so I'm finding my way, moment-to-moment in this new place.

Things that once seemed important to me are barely thoughts any longer. I notice suffering more- hungry children, the homeless and the destitute, a mother’s harsh voice toward her young child- an elderly person struggling with the door, an animal being hurt. There are so many things about the world that I now struggle to understand.

There are some questions, I've learned, which are simply unanswerable.

So please don’t tell me that “God has a plan ” for me. Those platitudes slip far too easily from the mouths of those who tuck their own child into a safe, warm bed at night. Grieving families won’t wake up one day with everything ’okay’ and life back to normal. We have a new normal now.

As time passes, I may gain gifts, and treasures, and insights but anything gained was too high a cost when compared to what was lost. Perhaps, one day, when I am very, very old, I will say that time has truly helped my broken heart. But always remember that I am always aware of the presence of my child's absence, no matter how much time has passed.

So this year, on Mother’s Day, don’t forget that I am a mother and I have a child, whose absence, like the sky, is spread over everything as C.S. Lewis said.

Don’t forget to say, “How are you really feeling this Mother’s Day?” Don’t forget that even if I have living children, my heart still aches for the one who is not here —for I am never quite complete without my child.

My child may have died; but my love - and my motherhood - never will.

And being a bereaved mother is the hardest job of all.

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Special love to the mamas who have no living children. Our hearts truly truly go with you today, and always.

For all your precious children, and for all the children missing their own mama, who are missed always in all ways.