I Am A Powerful, Motherless, Thankful Single Mom!
One restless night, with the weight of the world on my shoulders, and feeling so low I didn’t know I could face another day, I prodded myself into a deep meditation and this became the most powerful things I’ve ever done and initiated a dramatic life change.
There I lay in bed and all of a sudden, I visualize an old witch-like woman pointing her finger at me, and screaming accusations; “You are a waste of life! No, I’m not I yell back , I’m tired, I have a baby, I’m not working and have to use my inheritance to support my family since my husband isn’t working. “Then continue to be powerless and stay unhappy and show your soon to be born son what a loser you are,” the witchy woman retorts.
That was it! No way would I let my son down. I reached deep into my soul, found my power and then it happened, I transformed into a kick-butt hero, Lara Croft, Ellen Ripley from Aliens and Xena Warrior Princess all wrapped into one. The power and courage soared within me and my witchy woman “friend” saw my power and said; “There you are, I knew you’d find yourself. We’ve got work to do. Stay strong, know that I will be with you. Make those changes NOW!”
Whew! What a visualization. It left me exhausted, exhilarated, scared and mad at myself for letting a man take away all of my power. The sun rose, I fed my son, and the time had come to change my life. I looked at myself in the mirror and said out loud – You can do this! The time is now, no more believing him when he tells me I’m crazy, no more paying his way. No more putting up with his manipulations, threats, pushing me, then calling the cops to say I attacked him. And NO MORE shrinking from my power, feeling like a victim and letting my son down. I was pregnant and my son deserved a Mother who shined, was filled with joy and grace and radiated beauty and power.
What the heck was wrong with me, why had I stayed so long? Why did I let someone else take my power away from me? I was dealing with all of these emotions, and then…my Mom died.
• • •
My Mom died of cancer after a year-long, painful battle. I held her every day and tried my best to take her pain. We had amazing conversations, shared many things with each other that we hadn’t dared to talk about before and even talked about dying and what would happen to her and the family when the inevitable day arrived.
It wasn’t all sunshine and roses, there were days when my Mom wasn’t in her right mind (damn, that cancer) and we had battles, and I couldn’t always keep it together – either crying or being mad at her for leaving me. But there came a day when I was alone in the room with her, that I told her I no longer resisted her leaving, that I was sorry it took me a little while to accept it, that I loved her forever.
Later, I put in my earplugs because her strained breath would stop for up to a minute at a time and start up again and I just couldn’t bear it. A few hours later at 5am on a beautiful, clear blue Sunday morning, the nurse gently woke me. Irritated and deaf I barked, “What?” taking out my earplugs.
Shit—she was gone. I had missed it. The big moment! Did she reach out, say something, smile? Did the light float up? I had missed it! Now on autopilot, I called my sister and aunt at home. “She’s gone.”
I was afraid to touch her at first. Then I breathed, smoothed her hair, touched her. She was already cool. I looked at her beautiful hands, her soft skin…my mom. Lying there. Dead. Clearly she wasn’t there, really, just her body, but it was the body that gave birth to me, that held me…that was always there for me.
Family arrived, and the nurse reappeared. Checkout is at nine. Will she be donating her organs? Whispering, we collected our things. (Why are we whispering? She’s dead.) Then we were done. Everyone was fidgeting. I boldly gathered everyone at the end of her bed for a prayer. Then we left. We just left my mom’s body there. Relief…grief…numbness.
The next few weeks were a blur, dealing with the mortuary, calling other family and friends, and making so many phone calls to sort out other arrangements. Oh yeah, we also had to go to my sister’s wedding. What a sad but memorable drive it was. One moment we would be sharing memories and laughing our heads off and the next dissolve into tears. How would we get through the wedding and be joyful? We decided to just pretend Mom was on vacation and deal with things after. My sis was a inspiration, she pulled it together and was courageous and beautiful. Back to Mom’s house we went to sort things out. My sister’s and I spent the next few weeks packing up my Mom’s life, eating all the food left in the fridge, drinking loads of wine and selling her condo.
Packing up was wild. She had little white mints in nearly all her pockets, and in a Rice Krispies box she had kept every letter and card I’d ever sent her. She had more sex toys than I’m comfortable mentioning. (Go, Mom!) Oh, and I was pregnant. It had happened at the wedding, before the funeral. This little soul knew what it was doing and helped me to experience the richest joy and deepest sorrow all at once. I knew I had to fully feel my feelings so that I’d be clear and present when he was born. I held my belly, telling him that I was crying about my mom, not him, and to allow this energy to pass through us both and back to the earth. I hid alone to cry, feeling isolated in an unsupportive marriage.
• • •
After the grueling divorce, I learned to forgive him because I saw that I was being the victim, attracting someone to blame. I found myself again just like I helped my mom find herself in the last year of her life.
Now, for my healing. I forgave myself. I put affirmation notes everywhere, I asked for help, told the truth of how scared I was, got coaching on my career, dressed confidently, and exercised.
I started dating and vowed to tell the truth, be myself, explore my true sensual expression, and never settle again. Slowly, I began to live sensually, in the moment, savoring life more deeply and cherishing motherhood. I felt this unexplainable, unconditional love for my son that healed the loss of my mom, for I knew the depth to which she had really loved me.
Maybe it was ushering in death and then giving birth that began to dismantle my preoccupation with what people thought of me. Until the death of my mom and birth of my son, I sought approval for my every decision. Until I finally opened up – through the cycle of death and birth. I had been waiting for permission to stop flat-lining through life. Single, motherless motherhood became my portal to freedom. I hit rock bottom to be reborn, creative, and alive.
I love living sensually. I love feeling deeply. I love inhaling each moment knowing I can handle anything, and I love exhaling my full self-expression into an experience. I love being able to compassionately chuckle at myself, and I also love a really good cry. Bless single, motherless motherhood for being the catalyst to pour forth my wellspring of happiness and teach me that I am a limitless vessel of love sourced from within.
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