At the tender age of eight, I lost my mother to cancer. Unlike the swift, heroic battles depicted in films, my experience was marked by two grueling years filled with hospital stays, wheelchairs, and oxygen tanks. I remember the chaotic journey to chemotherapy appointments, a barf bucket nestled in the front seat, and the constant shuttling between relatives’ homes, where adults tried to convince me that these unsettling times were thrilling adventures.
In many ways, I’ve become a shadow of her—my appearance a mirror of hers. My father and I have often found it challenging to connect, with friends of his frequently remarking, “He lost her once; he fears losing you too.” Heartwarming for a daughter, right? My grandmother, in her later years, even called me by my mother’s name, and at her funeral, several attendees mistook me for Janeen, pointing out our similar mannerisms and even our gait.
Navigating Childhood
Navigating my childhood was peculiar. While divorce rates climbed and became more common, my peers struggled to understand my grief. Teachers often encouraged me to connect with Sam, another classmate who had also lost his mother. We were labeled as “The Only Ones,” yet no one knew how to facilitate a conversation between us, and our paths never truly crossed until high school. Even then, amidst countless conversations, we never mentioned that shared history.
Being my mother’s daughter has shaped the highs and lows of my life, yet it also left me without a clear path. Communication within my home was scarce, and at times, focusing on my mom felt like a protective shield. While other kids invented imaginary friends on the playground, I found solace in my memories of her. I was, admittedly, a quirky child—drawing intricate diagrams of the lower intestine while dreaming of becoming a microbiologist when my peers aspired to be firefighters. (These days, the world of science feels far removed from me.)
Finding My Niche
As I ventured into adulthood, I discovered a niche for myself in philanthropy. I dedicated four years to the American Cancer Society, volunteering and organizing events that raised significant funds and united countless individuals in the fight against cancer. I connected with patients and families, including those left behind, like me. It was fulfilling, yet I realized that my life revolved around someone who was no longer here. Though I thrived in this role, I eventually sought an escape from the constant reminders of cancer.
Shortly after changing jobs, I found out I was pregnant. I came across the term “Motherless Mothers” and learned that I might unconsciously block out my daughter’s eighth year. So, I marked my calendar, bracing myself for how that year might unfold.
Embracing Motherhood
Fast forward 27 years, and I am now a stay-at-home mom to two children under two. My life echoes my mother’s in astonishing ways; she aspired to be a homemaker, while I had always envisioned a career. However, practicality led me to embrace my role at home, tackling endless laundry and wiping smudges off the fridge—curiously, my husband’s fingerprints rather than the kids’. I often joke that I wish to post a sign on my back proclaiming, “I used to smell like anything but baby vomit and Cheerios.”
Today, my greatest struggle stems from a longing for that phone call. I am surrounded by supportive friends and a wonderful community of mothers, yet at 35, I still endure many “I want my Mommy” days. I wish I could ask her whether it was wise to stay home, how she managed to juggle chemo treatments with two young children, and why I can’t seem to get dinner on the table while healthy. I yearn to hear her laugh as she recalls the mischievous toddler I once was.
I also find myself pondering who will teach my daughter Abby how to style her hair or apply makeup since I never learned those skills myself. Ultimately, I want to know what the future holds.
Documenting Our Journey
In the absence of a historical anchor, I strive to document every moment of my children’s lives. I blog, create photo books, and seek out adventures, hoping to savor every fleeting moment. I aim to maintain my sanity while reflecting on how closely intertwined our past and present are. My mother’s opportunity to shape her legacy was cut short, and while I navigate my own journey, I aspire to help my daughter find that balance.
For those on a similar journey, you can find valuable insights and resources, such as this post about couples’ fertility journeys and this authoritative resource on pregnancy.
Conclusion
In summary, the journey of being my mother’s daughter has profoundly influenced my life, shaping both my joys and struggles. As I forge ahead, I strive to honor her memory while creating a new legacy for my children.