MY MOM NEVER TAUGHT ME THIS

My mom taught me everything I needed to know in life, except for how to live without her. Until a few years ago, I wholeheartedly believed this saying fit me to a tee. But little did I know that really my whole life my mom was preparing me for everything that life would throw at me. 

Back in 2016, my husband and I had been happily married for three years, and we were trying to have a baby. But it just wasn’t happening. I don’t remember why, but over lunch one day with my mom, I mentioned it to her and how sad and frustrated we were. In her motherly wisdom, she lovingly told me that God always has a plan, and it will happen when it is meant to … jokingly adding that she didn’t want to be a grandma before she turned 50 anyway (She was 49.). She then suggested we see a fertility specialist, just to see if they could help. 

As anyone who has been through the process knows, it involves several uncomfortable and tiring appointments.  But this time felt like it was meant to be. My appointment was on my birthday … a sure sign of good luck, right? But still, no baby. I remember crying as I called my mom while driving home. Through her tears, I can still hear her saying, “It’s gonna be OK; it will be OK.” Little did I know how much hearing her voice and those words would mean to me just a few weeks later. 

It was Christmas and my parents had just gifted my three siblings and our spouses a beautiful cruise to the Bahamas! It was an amazing gift that I couldn’t wait for. The rest of my family, including my parents, were set to set sail over New Year’s, while my husband and I would go a few weeks later because of work conflicts. 

My mom was so filled with excitement from being able to give us all what was sure to be a trip of a lifetime. And sure, we would never forget the trip, but not for what mom would’ve dreamed of. 

My family was happily enjoying their trip while I was back in Minnesota. The ship had them write a New Year’s wish on paper and launch it with balloons. Later, I would learn my mom wished for a grandchild in 2017. January 3 was the next day to see if our fertility help worked and if I was pregnant. My mom, of course, knew that, and I was so hoping that when she returned from her trip, that I would be able to tell her the good news (and she turns 50 in February, so I would still help her reach her goal). But it was another round of waiting and not being pregnant. 

I was getting ready for work when I saw a call come in from the Bahamas. I was thinking, oh geez mom, you couldn’t wait, and you wanted to call long distance (and I didn’t want to ruin her trip). But as I answered the phone, it wasn’t my mom. It was my dad. But it didn’t sound like him at all. He was crying. I had never heard my dad cry before, so I knew it was serious. He told me that mom was in critical condition. WHAT? How? Is she ok? Should I fly down there? He didn’t know, other than that they were snorkeling, and mom asked to lie down and wasn’t waking up. He said the boat rushed her to the hospital in the Bahamas and he, along with my three siblings and future in-laws, were waiting to hear from the doctor. I immediately started screaming and didn’t know what to do. Being thousands of miles away, I felt so helpless. That’s when dad suggested we say the Lord’s Prayer together. It was the longest prayer I’ve ever said. 

About 20 minutes later, he called back, still crying and barely audible, telling us that mom didn’t make it. At the age of 49, she had passed away from an apparent heart attack. This couldn’t be. It was a dream. When they got off the plane, she would be there. She would have to be. She’s Mom. Nothing can happen to her. I thought, “Why God? And, What do I do now?” I was truly overcome with grief beyond what I could bare.   

I will spare you the story of the nightmare of getting her body back from the Bahamas to Minnesota, the endless paperwork, countless phones calls that were made, the look of pain and suffering when I was reunited with the rest of my family, and of course, the final goodbye to her body at the funeral. 

For weeks, even months, I spiraled. I didn’t eat, sleep or take care of myself. I would lash out and yell at my husband and family for no apparent reason. I even hit my 15-year-old sister. I turned away from God … how could a loving God do this to me? Why would he take her? We needed her more than HE did. 

But remember when my mom told me it would be ok? Remember when she told me that the baby would come at just the right time? Remember her New Year’s wish for a grandchild? How is this for a miracle: on February 18, which would’ve been my mom’s 50th birthday, we found out we were expecting a beautiful baby. 

Now, I had my reason for hope. I had to take care of my body. I had something to look forward to. I had a reason to smile. I had a reason to live. 

Needless to say, it wasn’t an easy pregnancy with the many firsts of grief like first holidays and first Mother’s Day. But on November 9, 2017, we were blessed with a beautiful baby boy, John – a beautiful and wonderful gift. We had a million reasons to smile, a million reasons to be happy. But one thought kept circling my mind: How was I going to be a mom without my mom? 

The holidays came and went and so did the one-year anniversary of her death. I was still a wreck. I cried myself to sleep every night. I stayed away from friends. The most hurtful thing was that I pushed my family away. I needed help. I needed my mom. 

Through my battle with postpartum depression, I somehow found the courage to get help. I wanted to be strong, and I just thought this was the way you were supposed to feel. I thought that if I was happy, I was somehow dishonoring mom’s memory. Or that if I was happy, it would mean I didn’t miss her. But even I knew she wouldn’t want me to live like this. 

But I didn’t know where to turn. Religion was a no. I thought God had left me. Family was a no, since they were grieving too. And how could I talk to friends? They couldn’t possibly understand how I was feeling. 

I am not sure who, but someone encouraged me to go to MomCo. I’ll be honest, I thought it was a joke. I thought it was just a bunch of moms bragging about their kids and comparing how great of a mom they each were. 

Boy was I wrong. 

The first couple of meetings I sat quietly, soaking in the discussions and speakers. But then a kind MomCo mom changed my life forever. She invited me to sit at her table, and that day, the activity was a scavenger hunt. Now if you know me, you know I love games. But I was in no mood to play. This woman encouraged me, and eventually I gave in. For the first time in over a year, I had fun. I was myself. I laughed. I forgot about my troubles. I was free … all because of a scavenger hunt and the kind encouragement of a stranger. 

I had found my why. I found my people. I found the joy in motherhood. But most importantly, I found God again. He showed me there were women who cared for me and would let me be myself. They let me be vulnerable, and they let me cry without judging. They listened to my tears. Because it turned out, they were just like me … moms who needed each other, needed Jesus and needed a shoulder to cry on when life got hard. They didn’t care that I was the local news anchor (How could she been seen crying in public? How could she be unhappy; she was on TV?).  But it didn’t matter to them. They welcomed me with open arms. 

In the years that followed, I wanted to give back and get more involved in MomCo. I became a co-coordinator, prayer leader and more. I was in the book club, bunco group, went to mom’s nights out, and this year, I am so excited to be going to MOMCON – all because of MomCo, a group that literally saved me from myself and helped me find Jesus by showing me love and care, just as He did. 

They are my angels, dressed as ordinary moms, who have done extraordinary things … and they probably don’t even know it. 

That’s the power of motherhood. My mom never got to meet her grandchildren (We now have three beautiful children.). But somehow, someway, she knew I would be ok. She knew I was meant to be a mom. Was it because of her momma instinct? Maybe? But more than likely, it was because of her faith in Jesus and knowing that God knows the plans he has for us, a plan to give you hope and a future, knowing that all things work together for the good of those who love him. 

I miss my mom every day. But I am constantly reminded of her as I continue on my journey of motherhood. There’s a memorial bench for her at our local park. I wanted to take a picture of my three kids there, but my oldest, (the miracle she wished for), took my phone and said, “No, mommy, I want to take a picture of you, so we can send it to Grandma Michele in Heaven, and she can see you because I know she misses you, mommy.” 

Fighting back tears, I looked to the sky. In my heart, I know that no matter what I do on this mom journey, I got one thing right: that my children, too, love and trust in their Savior and that everything really will be OK.