What Life Feels Like as a Former Mom

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Every morning, I wake up with dreams of my daughters swirling in my mind. I’m not an empty nester; my kids haven’t reached adulthood yet. I didn’t lose them to a tragic event or illness. As far as I know, they’re both safe and thriving. However, they don’t live with me anymore, and it’s been two and a half years since I last saw them.

Am I still a mom? Can you truly be a mother to children you cannot see, speak to, or care for daily? No more taking them to school, wiping away tears, kissing them goodnight, baking their birthday cakes, or watching them grow. The list of missed moments is endless. I guess you could call me a “former mom.”

When people inquire about my children, I’m often at a loss for words. Most times, I simply say yes and put on a brave face as if I lead a typical mom’s life. Who would want to hear the complicated reality? I certainly don’t relish sharing that I lost custody due to a foolish argument with their father, my ex-husband. (For the record, I’ve never laid a hand on him, my daughters, or anyone else.)

Before everything fell apart, we had joint custody, and I was deeply involved in my children’s lives—PTA meetings, Girl Scouts, school activities, you name it. I thrived in my role as their mother.

Soon, they’ll celebrate their 13th and 10th birthdays—major milestones. I’ll have a teenager, and my youngest will finally be in double digits. It breaks my heart to miss these events, just as I have missed countless others over the past two years. Their stepmother bought my oldest her first bra, and she’s now experiencing her period and probably taller than I am. My youngest has braces and is learning to play the violin. I get sporadic updates and rare photos when my mother visits them twice a year. While it’s nice to see them, it’s simply not enough. I long to be their mom again—not just a former one.

Every night, my dreams play out in familiar ways: I find myself desperately trying to get their attention in various settings. Sometimes they’re their current ages, other times they’re little again. I cherish these dreams, even though I wake up alone in an empty house without them.

Just a month ago, I caught a glimpse of them across a parking lot purely by chance. My fiancé and I were at the local middle school to watch his son play basketball. There was no reason for my daughters to be there, yet there they were, walking side by side toward the lot. My heart raced. I instinctively wanted to rush to them, envelop them in a hug, just as I do in my dreams. But my fiancé held me back, reminding me that I couldn’t do that. So, I sat there, straining my neck until they disappeared from view.

I shook with devastation. “They were right there,” I murmured. “I know…” was all he could say. That was the closest I had been to them in two years, separated by a busy parking lot.

They didn’t notice me. I often fantasize about running into them at Target or the grocery store, but we don’t shop at the same places anymore, and I rarely go to Target.

Being a mother was my only aspiration in life. While some girls dream of becoming doctors or dancers, I dreamed of motherhood. Now, I’m engaged to a wonderful man, and I think about starting anew and having children with him. I had my first daughter at 25; I’m 38 now and wonder if it’s too late to begin again. Moreover, how can I bring new children into the world when I can’t even see the ones I already have? That feels profoundly wrong. Still, I miss being a mom. I miss my girls. Living as a former mother is unbearable—I feel empty, alone, and heartbroken. I wish I could change it. All I have left are my dreams.

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Summary

The author reflects on the emotional turmoil of being a “former mother,” grappling with the loss of daily involvement in her daughters’ lives after losing custody. She shares her dreams of reconnecting with them and the pain of missing significant milestones. Ultimately, she longs to reclaim her role in their lives while contemplating the possibility of starting a new family with her fiancé.

Keyphrase: former mother

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