You Are Still A Mom

by Sara Lindberg
Originally Published: 
loss of a child
PeopleImages / iStock

I’ve never experienced it. The phone call. The knock on the door. The agonizing minutes, days, weeks, and months. Wondering if you can go on.

Waking up every morning thinking it was a dream. Passing their bedroom and peeking in, hoping to see them, hear their breathing as they sleep. Touching anything that may have belonged to them. Wrapping yourself in their clothes, willing them to give you one more hug. Sleeping in their bed in hopes of falling asleep where they once lay their head. Trying to make sense of what has happened.

I’ve attended the funerals, but I haven’t had to sit in the front, shielding my face from others. Wishing I could crawl in the casket and hold my child one more time.

I’ve watched you continue on, watched you teach other people’s children. I watch you treat them with a unique kindness. You listen a little longer, hold their hand a little tighter, and hug them a little harder.

You reach out to other moms who have experienced the loss of a child. You put your own pain and grief aside to provide solace. You hold their hand, wipe their tears, and listen.

I’ve sat with you at the table, on the other side. Held your hand and struggled to find the right words to say. Wishing I could take the pain away for just a brief moment, to give you some peace.

Days pass and turn into years. You find a way to remember a smile, a laugh, a gentle kiss on the cheek.

You may have only held their hand for a short while, but you will hold their heart forever. All of their memories, triumphs, heartaches, and accomplishments, will live on within your soul.

You continue on.

They will walk alongside you, giving you the courage to continue down your path. Reaching out for your hand, pushing you to find the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

You never knew how strong you were, until strong was all that was left to be. Being a mom is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had and dealing with fears you didn’t know existed.

Because you are still a mom.

You are still a mom, with every part of your body and soul. I admire your beauty, compassion, love, and courage. The rest of us can learn a lot from you. Your kind, gentle nature. Your ability to reach out when sometimes all you want to do is pull in.

You have taught me to honor, cherish, and take in every moment. Smile at the many reasons my kids bring joy to my life and learn to work through the challenges. You remind me that there is no way to be a perfect mother, but there are millions of ways to be a good one.

Someone once said that being a mom is loving your children more than you’ve ever loved yourself. You are a true testament to that love.

You are still a mom.

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