Zibby Mag

By Michelle Hord

I’ll never forget Mother’s Day of 2017. I had invited close family friends over for dinner. Only a few weeks prior, their mother had died after a long battle with lung cancer. This was their first holiday without her. Having lost my own mother and maternal grandmother within weeks of each other, I understood the “firsts” in a painful and intimate way. I remember avoiding drug stores and malls in the weeks leading up to Mother’s Day for many years because the images of the perfect family with the perfect mother receiving the perfect diamond gift (does that really happen?) were too much to bear.

This particular Mother’s Day weekend, my beautiful seven-year-old daughter, Gabrielle, came skipping in the front door after school armed with all of the heart-warming crafty gifts her second grade teacher could dream up. One of those gifts was a little paper bag. When she presented it to me, she opened it up and screamed. A toppled plastic container and dirt were inside. “I ruined it!” she cried.

After I got all the dirt back into the container, I promised her that with mama’s love a little sprout would still push through. That day she also presented me with a fist full of silk flowers tied in a satin purple bow. “I like the fake ones better because they never die,” she proclaimed.

I was right. That little pot of dirt did eventually grow and sprout into a plant that lasted for almost six years. Gabrielle was right too. Her silken bouquet still nests in the same vase six years later. The fake flowers never died. Unfortunately, my dreams and plans for our future did.

My daughter was murdered just weeks after that Mother’s Day by her father during a bitter divorce battle. My own grief journey is still evolving. Today, I am grateful to have experienced the years between becoming a motherless daughter and becoming a daughterless mother. That brief but precious window gave me lightness and grace in dealing with my own mother’s absence. But grief and loss are now my long-standing, unwanted relatives.

More than any secular holiday, Mother’s Day is triggering. How do you reconcile not having a mom anymore? Or not having a child anymore? The act of mothering and being mothered is a trigger for so many of us. We grieve what we once had. We grieve what we never had. We grieve—forever.

One of my most powerful moments of clarity came when fastening an airplane seatbelt and listening to the safety presentation for what seemed like the millionth time in my life. “Put your oxygen mask on first before assisting others.” It was a phrase that had jarred my sweet daughter on one of our flights together. When I carefully explained that sometimes mommy had to make sure she was okay so that I could guarantee that Gabrielle would be ok, it seemed to add up.

As I listened to the same instructions years later, my voice bounced back in my ears. If I don’t have what I need, how can I help anyone else? How can I “mother” mentees or family or children who are benefactors of my nonprofit? I must start by mothering myself.

When your world is burned to the ground, it is devastating yet somewhat freeing. It becomes easier to ask yourself, “What do I have to lose?” As I struggled to figure out what life could look like amid the catastrophic loss of Gabrielle, I tried to love myself the way I loved her. When confronted with life-altering decisions like pitching a book or quitting my corporate job to consult, I thought, “What would I tell my little girl?” Suddenly, that mother’s voice of affirmation became firm and clear: I would tell her to go for it. I would not promise her that it would be easy, but I would reassure her of her talent. I would encourage her to pursue her dreams.

It turns out Mama Michelle gives pretty damn good advice. I bet you do too.

Whenever I need to be brave, to love unapologetically, to take care of myself, I ask what I would want for Gabrielle.

As we journey through life and loss, especially on a holiday like Mother’s Day, it is a good time to examine what type of mothering we each need. Why not take the radical step of redefining motherhood by learning how to care for yourself?

The resolve to write a book, start a consultancy practice, find love again, and reconnect with my former mother-in-law in a deep and significant way has all been led by the silent cheering of my baby girl. Whenever I need to be brave, to love unapologetically, to take care of myself, I ask what I would want for Gabrielle.

We must ditch the “superwoman” trope and learn how to put our oxygen masks on first. Learning to love ourselves with a mother’s love is the secret to self-discovery and self-curiosity. How often do women ask themselves, “Is this what I really want? Is this what I really need?”

If Mother’s Day is a day full of precious memories, that’s great. If it’s a day you’d rather fast-forward, all good too. There is nothing more essential than motherhood. So, let’s rewrite the narrative together. We may not have the perfect mom or be the perfect mom, but before we solve those problems we have to understand the kind of mothering we need. Gift yourself the healing balm of a mother’s love. Redefine that superwoman stance to a warrior’s pose. You got this.

Michelle Hord is the author of the award-wining memoir The Other Side of Yet: Finding Light in the Midst of Darkness. The book is her personal testimony of resilience in the face of unimaginable tragedy. She has brought her message to O Magazine, The Tamron Hall Show, Good Morning America, The Talk, and has shared her journey with audiences across the country. Hord has three decades of executive and production media experience at organizations such as NBCUniversal, CBS Studios, Good Morning America, and The Oprah Winfrey Show.

Hord is the founder of “Gabrielle’s Wings,” a nonprofit she created to honor her daughter Gabrielle Eileen, who was murdered by her father when she was just seven. Gabrielle’s Wings is dedicated to giving children in historically vulnerable communities the tools they need to soar above their circumstances and embodies every mother’s dream for her child to grow and thrive without limitations.