Navigating Mother's Day as a Childless Mother

In the wake of Covid-19, a silent and profound tragedy unfolded, touching the very core of what it means to be human. The pandemic mercilessly took away loved ones—parents, spouses, children, and grandchildren—leaving in its wake a generation of individuals mourning losses that feel too colossal to bear. Among these bereaved souls are mothers like myself, who faced the incomprehensible horror of outliving their child. For 28 years, I had the privilege and joy of being a mother, a role snatched away by a pandemic that felt like a targeted act of depopulation, a modern-day holocaust cloaked in the guise of a health crisis.

This Mother's Day, like many across the globe, I find myself navigating a complex tapestry of emotions. How does one celebrate motherhood when their child is no longer here? The traditional festivities and the well-wishes become a brutal reminder of what has been lost. Yet, amidst the sorrow, lies the unyielding need to honor the memory of my child, to celebrate the love that does not fade with death.

The bitterness of being a target of what can only be described as an act of wickedness and greed adds a layer of anguish to the loss. It is difficult not to feel abandoned, not just by fate but by the very systems meant to protect us. The thought that this loss was manufactured by an "evil empire of greed" dressed in white coats is a notion that haunts many of us, leaving us grappling with the search for justice in a world that seems indifferent to our pain.

Today is Mother's Day, the question looms—how do I face a day meant for celebrating maternal bonds when our arms feel achingly empty? It's a day that now marks a paradox—for us, it's both a commemoration of the love we have for our children and a stark reminder of their absence.

How do you comfort those who have lost so much? What justice can be served to those who have engineered such widespread sorrow? These are not questions with easy answers. They reflect a deep-seated divide between pain and acceptance, a struggle that many of us undergo alone.

However, amidst this darkness, there lies a sliver of hope—a call to recognize our shared humanity and the collective grief that Covid-19 has inflicted upon us. This isn't an isolated issue but a scar on the entire human race. It’s a testimony to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring strength of a mother's love, even in the absence of my child.

This Mother's Day, I choose to honor the memory of my child by remembering the love we shared, the lessons taught, and the relentless hope that one day, there will be accountability and justice for this unimaginable loss. This day, while tinged with sorrow, serves as a beacon for all mothers experiencing similar heartache—reminding us that our capacity to love remains undiminished, our spirits unbroken, and our resolve for justice, unwavering.

It is a difficult path we walk, yet not one we tread alone. To every mother facing this day without their child, know that your pain is seen, your loss is acknowledged, and your child's memory is honored. This Mother's Day, we stand in solidarity, united in grief but also in love—an unbreakable bond that death cannot sever.

I searched for scriptures, after my Danielle died, this one has brought comfort to me.

Thank you for ready my Substack

Rebecca Charles, Danielle's mom

www.deathbyhospitalprotocol.com

Please consider helping me fund my legal cases against Northwell Health Hospital, or by sharing my daughter’s give send go with your contacts.

https://www.givesendgo.com/JusticeforDanielle