One day, I was “Mommy.” The next, I became “Mom.” The change occurred suddenly, with little forewarning. Well, almost none. My 11-year-old had been gradually shifting away from “Mommy” in front of her friends, yet at home, she’d still use it, only to seem a bit regretful afterward. She confessed that “Mommy” sounded childish, and she wanted to officially transition to “Mom.” I reassured her that she should call me whatever makes her feel comfortable.
My 9-year-old, however, was a different case. To him, I was “Mommy”—that title felt permanent. Or so I thought. One August afternoon, they returned from camp, and within mere minutes, both switched to “Mom.”
“Mom, can I have some water?” from my 11-year-old.
“Mom, do you have any snacks?” from my 9-year-old.
The term sounded unfamiliar—still does, even weeks later. Their voices seem older, as if, with that transition, they took a giant leap into adolescence. More times than I care to admit, I don’t realize they’re calling for me when they shout “Mom.”
Even though I had discussed the shift with my eldest, I was unprepared for the wave of sadness that washed over me at no longer being “Mommy.” I deeply miss those sweet little voices calling for “Mommy.” This sorrow is a unique ache that mothers often face. It’s the feeling that arises every time our children shed a bit of their innocence, moving toward lives that require less of our presence. I wish I had captured the last moment they called me “Mommy,” but that memory has slipped away, lost in that void where all “lasts” seem to vanish.
Simultaneously, my husband transitioned from “Daddy” to “Dad.” This shouldn’t be surprising; “Daddy” is just as childlike as “Mommy.” Yet, hearing my daughter utter “Dad” for the first time took my breath away.
He passed away three and a half years ago, and when he left, he was still “Daddy.” The last time they called for him, it was “Daddy.” In a heartfelt tribute at his funeral, my daughter captured everyone’s heart with, “my daddy played basketball with me.” In the letters and cards I keep in a memory box, he is always “Daddy.”
Now, he will never hear them call him “Dad.” They will never have the chance to say it to his face and see him try to hide how much he misses being “Daddy,” just as I miss being “Mommy.” We will never share a glance across the table and marvel at how our little ones, who once fit in our arms, are now full-fledged tweens, rolling their eyes at “Mom” and “Dad.” It’s a stark reminder that he isn’t here for this milestone or any future ones awaiting our kids.
Yet, as my breath caught at the realization that “Daddy” had become “Dad,” my heart also warmed. His relationship with them evolved, just as mine has, despite his absence. It serves as proof that he is still part of our lives. We often say he’s with us, but it can feel vague without substance. This, however, is tangible evidence that he remains with us. The words still hold meaning, which offers some comfort, softening the sharp edges of grief.
Watching my children blossom into individuals with vibrant personalities who can make me laugh and impress me with their intellect is thrilling. Yet, it’s bittersweet, as there’s no option to rewind or freeze time. The bittersweetness is compounded by the fact that my husband, their now “Dad,” isn’t here to share these moments with me. But at least I have this proof of his ongoing presence in our lives, accompanying us on this journey, no matter how many milestones we celebrate.
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Summary
The transition from “Mommy” to “Mom” can be challenging, especially when compounded by the loss of a partner who will never experience the shift from “Daddy” to “Dad.” This bittersweet evolution in language reflects the passage of time and the growth of the children, while simultaneously reminding the author of the absence of their loved one. Yet, the continued connection to the departed through memories and changes in their children’s lives brings both comfort and heartache.
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