One moment, I was known as “Mommy,” and the next, I became “Mom”—the transition was sudden and unexpected. Well, there was a hint of it coming. My 11-year-old had been gradually moving away from calling me “Mommy” in front of her friends, yet at home, she still used it, seemingly disappointed with herself. She expressed that “Mommy” felt childish and wanted to shift to “Mom.” I reassured her that she could call me whatever felt right.
My 9-year-old was a different story; to him, I was “Mommy” without question—at least that’s what I thought. One day in August, they returned from camp, and in just a few minutes, the shift occurred.
“Mom, can I have some water?” asked my 11-year-old.
“Mom, do you have any snacks?” chimed in my 9-year-old.
The word “Mom” sounded unusual to my ears—it made them seem older, as if by dropping “Mommy,” they had taken a significant leap into their adolescent years. Too often, I find myself not realizing they’re calling for me when they shout for “Mom.”
Even after discussing the change with my oldest, I wasn’t prepared for the wave of sadness that hit me when I realized I was no longer “Mommy.” I genuinely miss hearing their small voices call me that. I think this sadness is a common experience for mothers; it accompanies every lost moment of innocence and every step they take towards independence. I long for the times I held my sleepy toddler or played peek-a-boo with my infant, wishing I had cherished the last time they said “Mommy.” Now, that moment is lost, tucked away in the vault of memories that often fade away.
At the same time I transitioned to “Mom,” my husband became “Dad.” This change was expected, as “Daddy” is just as babyish as “Mommy.” However, when I first heard my daughter say “Dad,” it took my breath away.
Three and a half years ago, he passed away, and he was “Daddy” until the end. The last time they called for him, they used “Daddy.” My daughter’s heartfelt words at his funeral, recalling how he played basketball with her, still resonate deeply. In every letter and card she wrote, he was “Daddy.”
He will never hear them call him “Dad.” They will never get to say “Dad” to his face and see him pretend that he doesn’t miss being “Daddy” just as much as I miss being “Mommy.” We will never share a glance across the table, astonished that our little ones have grown into tweens who roll their eyes at their “Mom” and “Dad.” This change serves as a poignant reminder that he is not here for these milestones or the many others yet to come.
While the realization that “Daddy” became “Dad” took my breath away, it also warmed my heart. His relationship with them has evolved, just as mine has, even in his absence. It serves as proof that he remains a part of our lives. We often say he’s with us, but what does that truly mean? Sometimes, those words feel hollow, but this change gives substance to that sentiment. It’s a strange comfort that softens the sting of grief, even if just a little.
Watching my kids develop into vibrant individuals who can make me laugh and impress me with their intelligence is thrilling. Yet, it’s also bittersweet, as there’s no way to rewind or pause time. The bittersweetness is intensified by the absence of my husband, who would have cherished these moments with us. Still, I find solace in knowing he’s somehow with us on this journey, no matter how many milestones we encounter.
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Summary:
The author reflects on the emotional transition from being called “Mommy” to “Mom” by her children, highlighting the poignant shift in their relationship as they grow older. The grief surrounding her husband’s absence during this transition is palpable, yet she finds comfort in the evolution of their family dynamics and the enduring presence of his memory.