(Dead) Mom Club

(This post was written several weeks ago, and I am only now getting around to posting it.)

There are certain things that bond us to certain people; we make connections with friends in a variety of different ways. Maybe it's the girl you sat next to your first day of middle school. Maybe your parents were friends from their prenatal class. Maybe you played on the same soccer team or pined after the same boy. Maybe you became friends through your freshman college roommate. Maybe you met while each pushing strollers and walking dogs around the neighborhood, discovering that you are both first-time moms.

Or maybe, as is the case with my dear friend Anna, it's a shared membership to the Dead Mom Club.

That's not how we met, of course. We both studied Psychology at UPS and had several of our upper level courses together. We were both involved in the outdoor programs and had several mutual friends. Senior year we took the Wilderness First Responder (WFR) course and spent 10 days of intense training and practice scenarios together. After college, we kept in occasional touch by email. And then a few years later we were both attending Portland State. And then we both found ourselves living in Eugene. While we lived close in proximity we were able to get together on a weekly basis for lunch or coffee. She quickly became one of my favorite people to talk to. Granted, she's an LCSW and listens to people's problems for a living. But I always felt like we connected in ways beyond that of some of my other close friendships. And when it came time for marriage, in-laws, and talk of starting our own families, we often related to each other as motherless daughters.

Motherless women, I believe, have a unique perspective on childrearing. It holds more weight with us, whether we are trying to create, replicate, or avoid the mother-child relationship that we lost. I admit to feeling that I deserve a daughter, and now that I have her, sometimes feel a certain sense of entitlement, like I have a monopoly on loving her. Or like I love her more than other women love their daughters, because they have intact mother-daughter relationships.

When Anna visited several weeks ago (and brought us delicious Thai takeout - a much needed break from casseroles and chili), she inquired about my feelings as a new mom, whether or not I missed my own mother. I don't recall exactly how I responded, but as I reflect on it now, I'm surprised by how infrequently I have had that pit-of-the-stomach sorrow about my mom. It seems I did most of my grief work while pregnant, anticipating the trials of being a motherless mother. Mourning the loss of Francie's maternal grandmother. Daydreaming about what role she would have played in the life of our growing family. And since Francie's birth, I have mostly been entranced by her simply being, captivated with my new role of mother, and nurturing my ever-growing love for my husband and co-parent. Of course, I miss my own mother daily, and while I am grateful for the amazing women in my life - high school best buds, college girlfriends, mother-in-law, aunts, amazing co-workers, and everyone in between - no one can ever replace or even come close to emulating the role my mom had and would have continued to have in either mine or Francie's life. And that's something most women can imagine, but few can actually understand. And for that, I am so grateful for AMPM in my life.

Then again, I often daydream about posting a Craigslist ad saying something to the effect of: "Married 30 yo motherless mother to newborn baby, seeking maternal figure 50-70 yo who enjoys baking, laughing, listening, being a shoulder to cry on, leaving hand-written notes, shopping for others, Christmas decorating, 'films,' and random novel experiences. Must love reading and children."

Francie at 4ish weeks with AMPM.