Grieving My Mother's Death at My Daughter's Birth

Grief Hits At The Most Unexpected Times

My head is spinning out of control. I feel like I am on a tilt a whirl at the carnival and it’s not stopping.

A wave of nausea has hit me so hard I edge my way along the wall in the direction of the bathroom. The antiseptic cleaners sting my nose, which make the room spin harder. I open the bathroom door and drop on all fours, positioning my head over the white bright toilet bowl.

The next wave of nausea convinces me that I am going throw up. However, nothing happens. This position hurts my back so I sit my bum on the hard cement floor. What is wrong with me?

I need to go back into the room to tell my Grandma I want to leave mom’s hospital room. Everyone is crying. My mom is not able to speak. I do not understand what is going on. “Everything okay in there?” A man’s voice asks.

I realize I am not actually in that hospital room. I am in my own bathroom, in my own house. Its twenty-two years later and I am nauseous again, but for a very different reason. My big, swollen belly is making it hard for me to get up.

My husband comes in and dabs a cold cloth on my forehead while I steady myself on the sink. I cannot tell him what I just experienced. I do not understand it myself.

He yawns as he asks me if I want to lie down on the couch or upstairs in our bedroom. “The couch. I can’t do more stairs”. In the ten steps it takes to get to the couch, I stop twice for contractions. It is Day 2 of labour without any hope in sight. The contractions are every ten minutes for thirty-six hours now. We have just gotten back from our second attempt to be admitted at the hospital.

After I am settled on the couch I realize it is 2:30 am, so I insist my husband to go to bed. He hands me my cell phone so I can phone him if anything happens. He places his phone next to him in bed which is one flight of stairs up. The house is very still.

I turn on the television in hopes of distraction. It does not help. I cannot get my mind off my bathroom flashback. I really could use my mom right now. I was ten years old when she died of breast cancer. When I had that intense bout of nausea outside her hospital room, I did not know that four hours later she would pass away.

Even though it has been over twenty-five years, I still miss her. I want to ask her about what she went through when she was in labour with my younger sister and I. One of my labour fears is that I will give birth to a big baby as my sister and I were both over eleven pounds.

I am almost ready to wake up Michael. The loneliness is too much to bear. It is my finally throwing up that wakes him. After seventy hours of labour, we have a healthy baby girl named Alexa Patricia weighing 8 pounds, 12 ounces. After one night in the hospital, we are released to go home. I could not wait to show Alexa her home and her new crib and our cats.

I ache not being able to share this wonderful day with my mom.

Danielle is a work-at-hom mom of two miracle daughters. Her work has appeared in many websites including Yummy Mummy Club, The Momoir Project and Womens Post. When she is not feeding her Twitter addiction she is writing at her regular blog: