Chad Milner and daughter, Cydney
The second Sunday of May is a very interesting day. While we should give roses to those who are living, Mother’s Day is a day in which we all give appreciation to the women who gave us life, as well as those we have created a life with.
In my household, Mother’s Day has taken on a very different meaning. Five months after my daughter Cydney’s mother was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, my own mother was informed that she had a malignant tumor in her breast. While my mother was beginning her process, I was knee-deep into surgeries and living in hospitals in 2011 with my wife. I recall a conversation in which my mother was emotionally processing that her oncologist threw out the possibility of a mastectomy. In the moment, I had to do my best impersonation of my mom (who is known to take feelings out of the equation and keep it real for perspective’s sake) and tell her that while I understood, I wished that surgery was an option.
The fall of 2011 was very difficult for me. While having to hide around in Virginia because my in-laws knew Cydney’s mother was being put on hospice and trying to get rid of me, the only comfort I had was being there for my own mother (via phone) who was just beginning chemotherapy treatments. The last time Timile–my daughter’s mother–and my mom saw each other, my mom showed Timile her bald head and they bonded because they were sharing an all-too familiar experience.
After Timile passed away and my mother was finishing up her first round with chemo, I was neck-deep in custody cases in two states for my daughter against Timile’s parents. A week after major surgery, my mother did most of the driving from New York to Virginia for us to get my baby back. In a time where she needed to be resting, what was more important to her was that I had my little girl. I was just beginning to feel about this little baby the way my mom does for me.
Needless to say, hospitals make me uncomfortable, so I don’t do hospitals. When my mother had her second surgery, I didn’t visit and she understood. The only time that I did was to drop off my aunt who was visiting mom. I stayed in the room all of five minutes and spent the rest of the time in the parking lot. Most people would say “Chad, get over yourself,” but at 25-years-old, stuff got incredibly real for me and she got it. Before my grandmother passed, I couldn’t visit her in the hospital, either. I had to wait until she came back home before ultimately saying goodbye. The way that both my mother and grandmother just “got it,” is a testament to these women who literally held on to dear life until I was ready.
Cydney only experienced Mother’s Day once while Timile was alive, and she was only three-months-old. All she knows is making that day special for my mother and her aunt, who act as mother figures in her life. Listening to this week’s podcast, she’s more than happy to do so, as well.
Today, we have just entered a different juncture in Cydney’s life. For the most part, she wants to control the conversation about her mother. Even if I am on the phone with someone else and she is within earshot, she begins to feel a certain way when Timile’s name comes up. It has to be her who brings her mother up, or she begins to get a little sad. While she is perfectly fine with being different, I feel as if she is become more and more aware that it isn’t the norm to be missing a mother. Her friends in school don’t understand it. Yes, saying that my daughter is more than several handfuls is an understatement, she clings on to me because I’m everything to her…I can see it in her eyes. Hell, she has a mild form of separation anxiety when people she cares about leave and begins to cry, saying “I’m gonna miss them.”
Another interesting pattern of behavior that I have noticed in my daughter is that she sees parts of herself in women that she has seen me date.
Read the full article here at Single Dadventures.
