So God Made a Mother is Here! 🎉

I remember the first time my father mentioned her.

It was autumn, less than a year after my mother had lost her lengthy battle with cancer.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” my dad remarked casually over the phone.

I tried to respond, but there was an acrid taste in my throat. My father was dating?

Even in death, I had assumed my father would remain loyal to my mother. But a little over two years after my mother’s death, my father remarried. The wedding was lovely, yet tinged with the pain of loss that still felt fresh to me.

A few years later, our family celebrated another milestone when my husband and I welcomed our first child, a baby girl. My dad and stepmother came to help out, but for most of the visit, I pushed them away. Exhausted and ragingly hormonal, I ached for my own mother. During snippets of sleep, I’d see her in dreams. She had been my best friend, the wise soul I’d always turned to for advice or a compassionate ear, the person who’d never minded when I borrowed her clothes or jewelry without asking.

It’s not fair, I thought as I wiped tears from my eyes or snapped at my father to be quiet because the baby was napping. My mother was supposed to be part of this experience, cuddling her first grandchild and reassuring me about postpartum meltdowns, as a pot of her famous chicken noodle soup simmered on the stove.

Nearly a decade later, with two daughters in elementary school, I still feel my mother’s absence acutely. But our family’s relationship with my children’s step-grandmother has grown in ways I couldn’t have predicted when my grief felt raw and all-consuming.

When my dad remarried, I struggled for a long time to accept the reality of seeing him with someone so different. My stepmother is a professional writer, just as my mother was, but the similarity ends there. While my mother was chatty and often goofy, my stepmother is reflective and even-keeled.

It was not until my stepmother and I bonded over our mutual interest in blogging—and a penchant for teasing my father—that I realized something I’d thus far refused to acknowledge: she didn’t need to be a carbon copy of my mother in order for us to have a good relationship.

Little by little, as I stopped viewing my dad’s new wife through the lens of how she wasn’t my mother, I began to form a relationship with my stepmother. And I recognized that some of the assumptions I’d made about her were misguided. What I had believed was disinterest in those early months was, rather, my stepmother’s thoughtful attempt to give me space as I adjusted to my new reality. What I had initially interpreted as aloofness was, I later realized, my stepmother’s naturally calm, laid-back demeanor. Her steady presence keeps my father—who seems to be constantly in motion—safely anchored to the earth.

Over the years, my stepmother has built her own relationship with my two daughters. She’s meticulous about remembering their birthdays and has shared with them her enthusiasm for theater and Beverly Cleary books. She’s even coined an apt nickname for my youngest, calling her a hummingbird—a reference to my daughter’s petite stature and seemingly boundless energy.

As my children’s relationship with their step-grandmother—who goes by “Nana Joanne”—continues to evolve, I’ve realized that it’s possible to make space for her while honoring my mother’s memory. I talk with my children often about their maternal grandmother and the ways she encouraged and challenged me. Though my kids will never meet my mother, I hope that the memories I share will help them to know her.

Losing my mother left a hollow in my heart that no one else can ever fill. I feel that emptiness when I look at my youngest child and see my mother’s mischievous smile. I sense it when I tell my oldest a bedtime story that my mom once shared with me. But amidst the pain of loss, there is beauty. There is light. There is gratitude in knowing that my children have many people who love them—whether here on earth or in another realm.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our new book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Gina Rich

Gina Rich is a writer and mother of two daughters. She lives in the Midwest and shares caffeinated ramblings at www.lovehopeandcoffee.com.

I Became a Widow at 37; God’s Grace Sustained My Young Family

In: Faith, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mom and young daughter at sunset

After my husband soared to Heaven eight years ago, my three daughters and I found ourselves on an intense grief journey. I never imagined being a widow at age 37 when my girls were just 2, 5, and 8 years old. Despite the heaviness of grief, I knew God was near. And I longed for my daughters to experience His comforting presence too. That’s how we started chasing God’s glory together. We started with a nightly rhythm of watching the sunset together. We would step out onto our back patio or pull over on the side of the road and pause...

Keep Reading

The Miscarriage I Had Decades Ago Is Still a Tender Wound

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Sad feeling woman walking in early twilight

It’s funny how grief tends to bury itself in the recesses of one’s mind until it literally rises from the dead at some point and resurrects through the experience of others.  I did not know how traumatized I was when I lost a baby in 1993 through miscarriage, or what my doctor termed as a “spontaneous abortion,” until a friend recanted his wife’s similar experience to me. The hurt and denial of the past sprung back to the present rather quickly as if it was happening to me all over again. My husband and I couldn’t have been happier when...

Keep Reading

I Buried My Heart with My Baby but God Brought Me Back to Life

In: Faith, Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman in a sweater standing outside looking at sunset

Recently, my world felt as if it were crashing around me. I was so angry I think my rage could have burned a small village. Unfortunately, that rage was directed at God though I knew that wasn’t what I needed to be directing toward Him. He owed me nothing then, and He owes me nothing now; however, my heart was shattered, and for a while, it seemed as if my faith was crumbling with it. I stopped going to church. I stopped praying. I stopped all positive feelings and allowed myself to succumb to the pain and the anger. When...

Keep Reading

I’m Letting Go of My Toxic Mother

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Daughter holding mother's hand, color photo

My mom died. She died, but I became free. For the very first time in my life, I’m not worried about what stories and lies she’s spreading about me. Even though we lived thousands of miles apart from each other, she had everyone around me in the palm of her hand. They believed her. I was a horrible child, rebellious teenager, and spiteful adult.  You see, I was never good enough for her. Her fantasy of what she believed a daughter ought to be is something I simply could never live up to. When I realized the behavior was transferring...

Keep Reading

My World Stopped When I Lost My Dad

In: Grief
Sad woman placing a white flower on a closed casket

I think it’s safe to say we have all dealt with grief. If you haven’t, count your blessings. I, like so many of us, have traveled on the road of grief . . . an unpleasant walk. After several losses, I have been on different sides of grief. When your friend loses a grandparent, you mourn with them, for them, for yourself, for their family. But it doesn’t quite affect your everyday life. When your spouse loses an aunt after an illness. When your spouse loses an uncle in a motorcycle accident, you mourn the loss of a kindhearted man....

Keep Reading

It’s the Flower Food Packet that Hurts

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Flowers on a headstone

It’s the flower food packet that gets you. That little plastic packet with the powder that keeps your flowers alive longer. The little packet you know you’ll never use because these flowers aren’t going in a vase. They’re going on the ground. RELATED: The Impossible Grief of Child Loss Hurts Forever Buying flowers for my baby’s grave is a normal process for me. Every so often, and especially around the time of year we lost our boy, I grab a bunch at our local grocer. I lay them carefully on top of where his very tiny body was laid to...

Keep Reading

How Do You Say Goodbye to Your Mother?

In: Grief, Loss
Sad woman sitting on edge of bed

Sitting at a McDonald’s table in Charleston, SC, I looked down at my ill-fitting shirt and shorts. Stress had taken its toll, and most of my clothes now hung off me. I should have worn something else I thought, but how do you pick out an outfit for saying goodbye to your mother? I reached up and felt my earrings. They were hers and seemed right. That was something at least.   Within the hour, my family and I would come together to take my mom off life support. It was Good Friday and I managed to secure an Episcopal priest...

Keep Reading

This Is How to Show Up for a Friend Who Has Cancer

In: Cancer, Friendship, Living
Bald woman during cancer treatments and same woman in remission, color photo

One moment I was wrestling with my toddler and rocking my 3-month-old to sleep, and the next I was staring blankly at the doctor who just told me I had stage four cancer that had metastasized from my uterus to my left lung and spleen. “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I smiled at the young doctor who had clearly never given this kind of news to anyone before. I looked over at my husband’s shell-shocked face as he rocked our baby back and forth in the baby carrier because I was still nursing, and we knew we’d be at...

Keep Reading

All I Have Left Are Dreams of My Mother

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother holding infant, older color photo

I had a dream about my mom last night. It’s rare when this happens but last night’s dream was unlike any I’ve ever experienced. I was at a party, and she just walked in. It was so vivid. She sat down in a chair, looking so beautiful, so young, her eyes so very blue. She was so full of light, something I hadn’t seen in a while. I just looked at her, stunned, and gasped. I said, “Are you here? Are you real?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Just like that she got up, grabbed me, and hugged me...

Keep Reading

I Miss the Little Moments with My Mom the Most

In: Grief, Grown Children, Loss
Woman sitting on floor by couch looking sad

You think it’s going to be the big holidays that are hard. The first Thanksgiving without her. The first Christmas. Maybe even her birthday. But it’s not the big days that bring you to your knees. It’s all the little moments in between. It’s cooking a family recipe and not being able to call her to ask a question about the directions. It’s looking down and realizing you’re using the Tupperware you stole from her and knowing you can’t return it even if you wanted to. RELATED: My Mom is Never Coming Back To Get Her Shoes It’s talking about...

Keep Reading