A poem for all forms of the Mother

A mother

She grows you, she finds you, she adopts you; loves you

At any age you came, hers,  yours; irrelevant

The bond is formed in that moment

The arrival  different for all

Once the seed is planted she is mother

Via paper, surrogate, thought

Via birth, via death

Miscarriage, stillborn, disability

Abandonment, fostering, or a surprise

The mother was born the instant the lines formed

No matter how long no matter how far away

She remains the mother since that day

The memories of the mother now gone

Held your hand when you fell

Picked you up with a smile

Gave you shit for your mistakes

Tried to explain the breaks

Though gone now, her legacy lives on, in you

The bereaved mother

They grieve the loss that made them a mother

A painful day to remember the child grown or infant; fetus or disabled

That lived not long enough

Those that celebrate with living children and mother

The grateful ones; a happy day

The mothers to pets or nieces and nephews, cousins or siblings

What makes us a mother to someone lives in the hearts of the care we give

There are those that have lost their mother

Cancer, accident; old age

Mothers day is hard for some in different ways

Some celebrate, some remember

The love stays everyday

Thanks for reading,

Wishing all forms of mothers a peaceful  mothers day

Sheri

mothyers day all

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7 Tips to help with the bereaved mother on Mothers day

1. Say Something. Don’t back away from conversation when you hear the news. I mean this literally. Child-loss isn’t contagious. Come closer. If you’re tongue-tied, try starting with this: “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

2. Ask For Details. Don’t worry about “reminding” a mother about her loss. She hasn’t forgotten. She’s simply hidden her child from polite conversation. I’ve met mothers who lost children decades before and haven’t had a chance to speak their names in years. Even if her child died in utero, a mother still had expectations, dreams, a bond. If you’re unsure how to ask, try this: “Can I ask you more?”

3. Offer Support. Even if a bereaved mother seems to be functioning fine, she may still need support—even years later. Grief has no schedule for anyone. For a mother, no matter how much time passes, she’ll always be aware that her child should have outlived her. If the child died very young, she may be the only person in the world carrying that absence. So even if she says she’s fine, try offering your support again.

4. Don’t Say “Everything Will Be Okay.” Having a child die will always feel wrong. However you make sense of loss for yourself, don’t try to explain her own loss to the mother. Avoid saying things like, “Your child’s in a better place,” “Some babies aren’t meant to be born,”  or “Be grateful that you have/will have other children.” Even if she’s religious, she may want to slap you. Just focus on her feelings. Try, “That must be hard.”

5. Be Yourself. Every situation is different. No matter what you read here, you can still be yourself. That’s why you’re friends in the first place. Laugh. Cry. Be goofy. A mother who’s lost a child doesn’t want to lose whatever she loves in you as well. Even if you haven’t loved as a mother, you must know something about love. If you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing, try this: “I’m not sure if this is the right thing to say, but….”  

6. Consult an Expert. If you’ve read this far, you’re devoted to the bereaved mother in your life. But what if you feel out of your league? In the United States each year, one million women suffer pregnancy and neonatal loss alone. Fortunately, the internet makes it possible to connect with other grieving parents on websites such as Compassionate Friends, Reconceiving Loss, Bereaved Parents of the USA, or The Miss Foundation. Try this: “I’ll always be here for you, but have you thought about turning to others for help?”

7. Remember. No one misses her child as much as a mother does. But should she be left alone with the memory? 12 years after the death of my firstborn, I have two more boys. Sometimes I’m so busy you’d think I’d forget him. I don’t. So if you’ve avoided talking with a bereaved mother about her loss, today is the day to change that. Try this: “I want you to know I remember…” and use her child’s name. My son’s name was Silvan. Silvan. For all my grief, there is relief in speaking his name aloud.41zz563lzML._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_

Monica Wesolowska is the author of Holding Silvan: A Brief Life, named a “Best Book” of 2013 by Library Journal and The Boston Globe. You can read more about her loss and other matters in her New York Times Modern Love column or on her website.