Hello Dear Readers,

It’s wonderful to have you back with us for part five of the Motherhood series. I hope this series has been well received and that, in some way, you’ve been able to take away at least one thing that supports you on your journey. 

Throughout this series, I’ve shared how becoming a mother was an answered prayer and how that promise unfolded. I’ve also opened up about the moment I fully accepted being a single mother—a decision rooted in hope. Last week, I reflected on unforgettable moments that prompted me to pivot rather than continuing to compromise my self-worth.

And, today we’re on to part 5.

In the weeks leading up to my delivery date, around the Christmas holidays, my thoughts often drifted to my parents and grandparents. For those who may not know, my grandparents raised me from a very young age after my parents passed away. In time, my grandparents passed as well. There are no words that can fully capture the emotions stirred by their absence during such a pivotal moment in my life. It’s a quiet, constant weight you learn to carry—one that never truly disappears. And yet, when a milestone like welcoming your first child arrives, no amount of time softens the longing for their physical presence.

A close friend once shared with me during her pregnancy, “Having a baby and creating a family doesn’t lessen the ache of missing your parents—if anything, it magnifies it.” Those words met me in moments when the grief felt overwhelming, when I found myself longing for them more than ever. They reminded me that what I was feeling was normal, that I wasn’t alone. Becoming a mother without your own mother is a grief few understand unless they’ve lived it.

There’s comfort, and so many tears, in wondering how things might have been if they were still here. It’s the quiet acknowledgment that my children won’t experience that part of my family, just as my parents never had the chance to witness it either. I imagine my grandmother helping me get ready, filled with joy and excitement over her twin grandbabies. I imagine my grandfather’s love—steady, protective, and familiar. And in those moments, I hold both the gratitude of what I had and the ache of what I miss.

One thing I knew for certain—without a doubt—was that if my mother or grandmother were alive, they would be right by my side as I stepped into motherhood. From the very beginning, they would have been there. Those were the moments I longed to share, the maternal bond I needed in the weeks leading up to giving birth.

I wasn’t confident that I had the support system I needed as I entered this new chapter. I questioned whether the village I once knew still existed. But after my baby shower, I was gently reminded that it did.

On the day of my baby shower, I invited my small circle of friends, several family members, and a few of my mother’s closest friends. Every single one of them showed up. We laughed, shared a beautiful meal, and reminisced about the years that had woven us together. I received so many thoughtful gifts for my babies—things that would carry us through those first tender months once they arrived. Even more meaningful was the wisdom shared by mothers who had already walked this road. I was reminded that I wouldn’t be alone, that help was only a phone call away. I felt deeply humbled and profoundly grateful.

As I looked around the room, it became clear to me that although my support system wasn’t as large as it once had been, it was still very much alive. It was strong. It was present. Seeing my mother’s friends there softened the ache of her absence. In their love and familiarity, I was reminded that although my parents are no longer here in the physical sense, spiritually they remain very near.

Scripture says, “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up” (Psalm 27:10). My parents did not leave me by choice—life simply unfolded as it did. And while their absence is often felt most deeply during life’s milestones, I am continually reminded that God is faithful in replacement.

My mother could not be there, so God made sure her closest friends were, as well as my spiritual mothers. My father’s cousin—who has been a steady male presence in my life—called to make sure I was enjoying myself. My aunt and uncle came, along with my cousins, my friends, my partner and his children. One of my sisters drove down from New York and returned the same day, just to be present. My brother showed up and opened his space to ensure I felt supported. My eldest sister, whom I hadn’t spoken to as much, was the first to arrive and the last to leave.

So yes, I missed my parents deeply during this beautiful milestone. But once again, God reminded me that love never disappears—it simply shows up in different forms. And there will always be people willing to stand in the absence.

With love, KeemahG.

Part 6 coming next week.