I remember when I announced my pregnancy and you said, “Congratulations Mama.”
I remember when my bump started showing and you squealed, “You look so good, Mama!”
I remember at my baby shower when you asked, “Are you ready for this Mama?”
And then, I had to tell you that my baby died. You told me you were so sorry. You cried with me. But, you didn’t call me Mama.
Oh, how I wish you had still called me Mama.
You were so quick to call me Mama before. All it took were two little lines for you to believe in my motherhood. It was so simple for you to look at my growing belly and call me Mama. Until one day, you just stopped. Why did you stop? Is it because you stopped believing in my motherhood?
Is it because my arms are empty that I have lost the privilege of being called Mama?
I believe I deserve that title more than ever. Not only am I a mother, I am the mother of a child I will never again wrap my arms around. I must parent a child that I will never again see. It is the most difficult kind of mothering there is. I am a mother who needs to hear that word the most. It’s all I have left.
Even though my baby died, you can still call me ‘Mama.’
I know it’s not so easy to call me Mama anymore. To call me Mama is a reminder that my arms are, in fact, empty. It might feel like you are reminding me of all that I have lost.
I will live the rest of my life aware that my child is missing.
I have lost so much that can’t be given back. This one little word is my tie to everything I wished for and can no longer have. By calling me Mama, you can give something back to me.
Your loving words are proof that my journey to motherhood didn’t end when my baby’s life did.
I will never hear my own child call me Mama, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop.
So, please, call me Mama.