Guest Post: Someone, Somewhere by Woz Flint

Deep in sleep, newborn cries awaken me from a foggy dream. Not yet a mama for two weeks time, my babe is hungry and we are falling into a routine. A choppy one, but a routine nonetheless.

The rest of the house is quiet as my son and I cozy up on the couch for his early morning feeding. The first of many. He’ll have Hobbit style secondsies in less than an hour to come.

I begin to drift in and out of sleep until my phone beeps letting me know that someone, somewhere is thinking of me.

The last couple of weeks have presented an outpour of love from family and friends:

“Congratulations on the new baby!”

“Can’t wait to meet the little guy!”

“Don’t worry, sleep is only a few years away!”

Message after message made my heart swell with bliss. Yet, one message never came — the one I needed the most. The one from my own mama.

Having died when I was just a child, my mom was never going to meet my son. She would never see his smile. Attend a birthday party. Heart his laughter.

I was going to have to navigate these new, muddy mama waters without the one person so many new moms turn to…their own.

As I sank into my couch, baby on my breast, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. A sadness soon replaced by anger for my mom not having the opportunity to meet this precious six-pound package of perfection.

Now with a full tummy and heavy eyelids, my son fell back into a hazy slumber and I was close behind. It didn’t take long for me to walk into a dream where my mother came and sat down at my kitchen table, soda in hand (a warm Dr. Pepper with lemon, no doubt) and reached for my hand as I sobbed “It’s not fair that you’ll never meet him, mama.”

She paused.

She smiled.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I met him before you did.”

Just then, my phone beeped letting me know that someone, somewhere was thinking of me.

WOZ FLINT is a writer, a mama, a lover of green olives and toast. You can read more on her blog, Simply Woz.


EDITOR’S NOTE:  as a fellow motherless daughter, even though I am not a mother, I know the feeling of grief, of how grief for those of us who have lost parents at an early age continues throughout our lives even in the happiest of times.  Each moment of happiness, is often tainted, sometimes ever so slightly, by a feeling of longing, of lamenting the absence.  This is true for anyone’s loss of any loved one at any age, but for those of us who experience our first significant loss when we were young, that feeling of loss starts earlier: bringing home a good grade, earning an award, graduating high school, getting your first apartment, falling in love, getting your heart broken, graduating college, a first job… you get the idea.

What I love about this piece by Woz is her ability to so well articulate those feelings:  happiness, sadness, and hope all rolled up into one sweet and poignant moment.  In fact, I loved this piece so much I asked her if I could republish it on my website.

If you would like to guest post here, let me know.


About Jennifer Simpson

Writer, marketing consultant, community builder and teacher. Director of DimeStories International, where authors share their 3-minute stories at open mic events and online. Publisher and editor of the I WRITE BECAUSE project. Find out more at
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