Moms: his and mine

My mom would have loved this little grandson with all of her might. Mighty love it would have been. I missed her so much I couldn’t write about it on Sunday. I can barely do so today.

Blueberry’s first mom needs to know he’s our beloved. I don’t know if she knows, and if she does, how she came to know it. I awoke on Sunday morning at 4 a.m. to bring my baby boy a bottle and while he snuggled in my arms as I rocked him I thought only of his first mom, and I was overcome with such grief and such a sense of unfairness – literally, the unfairness that I am raising her son – that I could barely get beyond that emotion.

I’m still reeling from the emotions of Sunday. It feels like self pity and I loathe that feeling. Yet, I’m having trouble getting beyond it. Moms: his and mine.


2 responses to “Moms: his and mine

  1. I am right there with you. And now you have me crying again 🙂 Squeeze that little blueberry, what a sweet boy.

  2. My dear, grief is not self-pity–and you were grieving, not indulging. That paradox of joy and loss, the bittersweet recognition of life moving onward even as lives are lost… it doesn’t get more powerful. I think all you can do is let it be, and before you know it, the day to day of childcare reasserts itself, and thoughts turn from mortality to diapers… mlw

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