Each morning, I awaken from dreams of my daughters, a reminder of my former role in their lives. Though I am not an empty nester, I am not actively involved in their upbringing. They are not grown, nor have I lost them due to tragedy. As far as I know, they are both alive and thriving, yet they do not reside with me. It has been two and a half years since I last saw them.
This raises a thought-provoking question: Am I still a mother? Can one truly be a mother to children one cannot see or converse with? I can no longer take them to school, comfort them through tears, or participate in their daily lives. The experiences I once cherished are now distant memories. Thus, I have become what some may refer to as a “former mother.”
When people inquire about my children, I find myself at a loss for words. Often, I simply say yes, adopting the facade of a typical mom. Few would be inclined to hear the truth, and I have no desire to disclose the circumstances that led to my custody loss—a regrettable conflict with my ex-husband, whom I have never harmed physically.
In happier times, we shared joint custody, and I was actively engaged in my daughters’ lives—attending PTA meetings, Girl Scout events, and school activities. I thrived in the role of a mother, finding joy in every moment.
As my daughters approach significant milestones—ages 13 and 10—I feel the weight of missing out on their growth and achievements. Their stepmother has taken on roles I used to cherish, such as buying my oldest her first bra and helping her navigate adolescence. My youngest has started playing the violin and has received braces. Although I receive infrequent updates and the occasional photo from my own mother during her visits, it is never enough. I yearn to be their mom again, not just a memory.
My dreams often manifest scenarios where I encounter my daughters, desperately seeking their attention. I long to embrace them, even if it means facing consequences for my actions. Recently, I spotted them from a distance in a parking lot, an unexpected encounter that left me shaken. My fiancé gently restrained me from rushing to them, reminding me of the boundaries that now exist. Watching them walk away was heart-wrenching, especially knowing that it had been the closest I had come to them in years.
I fantasize about running into them at familiar places, like the grocery store, but our paths no longer cross in the same spaces. The only aspiration I ever had was to be a mother. While many dream of different careers, my dream centered around motherhood.
Now engaged to a wonderful man, I contemplate the possibility of starting anew and having more children. However, I grapple with the feeling that it may be too late for me, especially when I still cannot see my two daughters. It feels unjust to bring new life into the world while feeling so disconnected from my existing children. Every day, I miss being their mom. The role of a former mother feels agonizingly hollow, leaving me feeling empty and heartbroken. I wish for change, yet all I have are my dreams.
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Summary
The reflections of a woman identifying as a “former mother” reveal the emotional turmoil of losing contact with her children. Despite her longing to re-engage with her daughters, she grapples with the reality of being unable to fulfill her maternal role. Through dreams and fleeting encounters, she navigates the complexities of motherhood and the profound sense of loss that accompanies it.