I have written about this time before. I was in the palliative care wing with my mother. One of my best friends was a couple floors above me, ready to delivery her first baby. We were so far apart on the spectrum of motherhood, but at the same time, so intertwined and alike. I really do feel that me caring for my mother was my introduction to being a mother myself. I had a deep sense that our roles were reversed, and I was now caring for her, as she had cared for me. My friend and I were both new mothers. Hers a great joy. Mine through a great sadness.

I will never forget going up to see her and her newborn baby, sitting beside her on the hospital bed. Us crying for welcoming her daughter and saying goodbye to my mother in the same tears. And her confession. How she longed for her daughter to not be born on the same day that my mother passed away. For her to be so vulnerable with me, connected us forever. And we cried. And hugged. And were in awe of the new life she had born.

Yesterday on her daughter’s 6th birthday, I texted her, just to say how I was thinking of her. She replied that she was having similar thoughts. And how when she looked at when I sent her the text, it was the exact time her daughter was born. And I knew it was my mom checking in on us both. Hi mom.

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