'My daughter was 9 months old when my mum took her life. Here's what saved me.'

This post mentions suicide and could be triggering for some readers.

Being a new mum is supposed to be a sacred time. It’s joyful and at times challenging, but it’s precious. We often rely on our mums to help guide us through motherhood, especially during the early stages. So what happens if the person who you lean on for support – your own mum – takes her own life? 

When my daughter Layla was nine months old, my mum Vanessa died by suicide. I went from being a new mum to a suicide loss survivor in an instant. Instead of enjoying the haze of new motherhood, I was fraught with anxiety, uncertainty, and unrelenting grief. 

I was breastfeeding my daughter at the time of Mum’s death, and my body went into so much shock that my milk supply completely dried up. My hair went grey, and I couldn't sleep. It was traumatic and disorientating and I felt like a shell of my former self. What I needed to help me through this unimaginable time was my mum, and not being able to lean on her for guidance, support and advice felt overwhelming. 

Watch Robin Bailey talk about losing her dad at a young age. Post continues below.

At any age, losing your mother is a monumental and life-changing experience. But, it can be exasperating when you’re also trying to care for a baby or raise a child. 

As the reality of her death sank in, there were days when I didn’t think I’d survive, and my future felt impossible to imagine. It was lonely, and really isolating, because all I wanted to do was reach out to her and share the experience with her. My daughter’s first word. Her first birthday, and all the little milestones and developments. 

But I couldn’t, and I found it hard to be present with Layla, because my grief was all-consuming. I felt guilty that I wasn’t being a “good enough” mum – instead, I was forgetful and disengaged, and some days found it difficult to drag myself out of bed. 

Imogen and mum Vanessa. Image: Supplied.

Imagine this: You’re in a world full of new mums. It’s a magical time full of bonding and connection. But amidst all the joyful chatter about sleep schedules and baby-led weaning, one mum feels like a puzzle piece that just doesn’t fit. That mum was me. 

I felt like I could no longer relate to anybody. I felt lonely. Don’t get me wrong, I had incredible support from my sister, best friend, and loving family members. Yet, deep down, I yearned for a connection with someone outside of my circle, who truly understood the complex experience of grief. Someone who was also navigating this treacherous path of mother loss in real-time.

And then one day, it happened. A chance meeting led me to a woman named Sally who, just like me, had experienced the sudden and devastating loss of her mum only months before. Our encounter sparked an immediate connection, a meeting that affirmed we were not alone in our grief.

Now, let me tell you, making new friends when your heart is heavy isn't a walk in the park. But Sal and I defied the odds. We instantly bonded over our shared sense of loneliness, finding solace in our mutual understanding of each other's pain. 

Sally, Imogen and Layla. Image: Supplied.

After many meet-ups (and a few wines) we discussed the huge impact that loss had had on our lives, and we decided to channel that energy into helping others feel less alone in their grief and launched our podcast, Good Mourning. We laughed, we cried, we shared our stories, and most importantly, we offered a comforting space for others who were on a similar path.

I quickly learned that one of the most important things to remember when raising children without a mother is to surround yourself with a strong support network. As a new and grieving mum, it was especially important for me to build relationships with people who are positive and supportive. 

When you are going through something as emotionally debilitating as suicide loss, you really do need people on your side who can provide emotional and practical support when needed. This may also look like speaking to a therapist or counsellor who can help you process your grief and provide you with tools and strategies when it comes to parenthood. 

And if you don’t have a ‘village’, then one or two strong connections are okay, too. It looks different for everyone – your support network can include friends, even neighbours, and in my case, a fellow motherless daughter who understood exactly what I was going through.

Mia, Holly and Jessie discuss 'the two-inch theory of grief'. Post continues below.

Lowering my expectations of myself saved me, too. My grief took me to some lows I had never felt before, and trying to juggle motherhood and your basic needs can feel impossible on some days. Take it step by step. Go micro if you need to, and by that just focus on minute-by-minute. 

It's so important to remember that self-care is about survival: it’s not about pampering yourself, it’s about giving yourself the necessary tools to cope with the day. It can look like making a really simple dinner like beans on toast if that’s all you can do, or leaving the cleaning for another day if you need to preserve your energy (and without feeling guilty for it).

Parenting without a parent can be isolating – it’s important to remember you’re not alone. On days when it all feels too tough, remember that you can survive. 

For me, connection and community saved me. There is no shame in needing extra support when the chips are down. Grief plunged me into darkness, but it was through the help of others that I was able to see the light.

Imogen Carn is the co-host of the Good Mourning podcast and co-author of Good Mourning: Honest Conversations About Grief and Loss. 

If you think you may be experiencing depression or another mental health problem, please contact your general practitioner. If you're based in Australia, 24-hour support is available through Lifeline on 13 11 14 or beyondblue on 1300 22 4636. 

Feature Image: Supplied.