I'm A Mother's Greatest Fear

I never expected to become a woman’s greatest fear. You wouldn’t know it right away as I’m genuinely a happy person, but I am. I am a bereaved mother. And yes, it’s one of the worst things one can endure. I know this. I lived this. I am living this.  Even without trying for more children, I’m satisfied with my life, and that scares the shit out of some people.

When I hear, “I don’t know what my life would be without my children,”  I think, “Me. Your life would be me… And it can be fabulous.” I can see the fear in their eyes, and I know that a friendship most likely won't form... My grief is too much for many to comprehend. 

I also am the person where, yes,  I can talk about your children, but not the entire time. I will change the subject and move on to more relatable topics. Once, I was chatting with a woman that I was hoping to become a friend, and she said, “Omg, I didn’t think I’d be able to talk about anything besides my children.” I laughed but knew that it was I who strategically changed the subject. If she had only talked about her babies, I wouldn’t have wanted to continue the conversation. 

Motherhood felt like a club I couldn’t get into in the past. Then I got into it, and that life was ripped away from me. I’ll never forget discussing this on Instagram, and a follower reached out saying, “We mothers accept you, and you’re welcome here. You’re a mother.” And yes, this was very kind, but being a bereaved mother isn’t how anyone wants to experience motherhood. 

This comment still haunts me today.

So, this means when all the mothers gather, I can join? And when we all start discussing our children, can I share my stories? You have a birth story… and so do I. And mine was beautiful, too. But I know from experience sharing my story rarely goes well.  When I reveal my version of motherhood, people cry, gasp, and I’m left with looks of fear and pity. It’s honestly terrible because I am their worst nightmare.

So, no… I’m not in that club.

I’m in this weird club with no babies, except the ones I grieve. 

And it’s not the same.

And yes, this can sound like a sad story. There are painful parts. But my life isn’t a tragic story.

I can talk about my babies with love and excitement. I can recall the kicks and how Clementine hated chocolate. I can share that she loved Lizzo’s music and that my dog somehow knew I was carrying a baby.

But it’s honestly easier to say, “No, I don’t have kids.” Because it changes the mood… quickly… especially when speaking to a mother.

Yes, I’m a mother’s greatest fear, and yet I’m living my best life. I love everything about my story because it is mine. That may frighten a few, but it weeds out those that can’t hang.