By Nina Bennett —

In a monumental moment of synchronicity, I was present the night my beloved granddaughter was born still. She slid into this world without drawing a breath, following a full-term, healthy pregnancy and normal, though long, labor. In a poignant moment, Jennifer, my daughter-in-law, looked at me and quietly asked, “So am I a mother or aren’t I?” With her question, my heart broke all over again. Later, Jenn told me how she resented not having the chance to parent her daughter.

Oh, but Jenn, you did parent your daughter. Not in the way you dreamed of, certainly. The act of parenting involves nurturing your child and tending to her needs.

Your daughter received unconditional love from the very first moment. You tended to her needs throughout your pregnancy. You carefully researched your prenatal care options, choosing a practice with nurse midwives because of their philosophy toward pregnancy and birth. You were actively involved in your pregnancy, taking yoga classes to deal with stress and physical discomforts. You read everything you could get your hands on about fetal development. You paid attention to your changing body and respected the fact that these changes were in response to your baby’s growth. A vegetarian, you were vigilant about ensuring that your baby received the proper nutrients for her development.

Together, you and Tim selected the birthing suite where you wanted to welcome your child. The plans for the birth were made with love. Every step of the way, each decision you made was based on love and concern for your baby-the absolute hallmarks of parenting. You chose a car seat after examining safety ratings. The furniture you selected for the nursery was not only lovely, it was useful-the crib would convert into a single bed, so the furniture would transition as your child grew older. In every decision you made, your baby came first.

I believe that the ultimate goal of parenting is to prepare your child to leave the protection of her home. While we never expected this to occur in the manner it did, you accomplished this with an amazing show of grace. As she left your body you touched her, not knowing that the guidance you were providing was all the guidance she would ever need.

Maddy knew the certainty and warmth of unconditional love throughout your pregnancy with her. Your daughter knew the intensity and depth of your love during her delivery and for the hours afterward, when you held and rocked and talked to her.  Although the atmosphere of serenity you had planned was temporarily abandoned when it was discovered that Maddy had no heartbeat, the quiet and dignity you desired returned once the medical necessities were completed.

Please don’t ever doubt that you are a mother. You are a mother in the truest, most selfless sense. Bereft, yes, but truly a mother. Your arms may be empty but your heart is overflowing. The love you have for your daughter lives on in your actions and your determination that she not be forgotten. You approach relationships with increased warmth and a heightened sense of connection.  So much was taken from you on November 12, 2003, but one fact will never change – forever and always, you will be Maddy’s Mommy.

copyright 2006 Nina Bennett

Tags: grief, hope