Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Mother's Day as a Grieving Mother

Mother's Day has always been a favorite holiday of mine. I loved seeing my mom and grandmother’s faces light up when I gave them the special gifts I made for them as a child and later picked out for them as an adult. There was something magical about making the maternal figures in my life feel special in gratitude for all they did for me. But sixteen years ago, that holiday was darkened when my maternal grandmother died on Mother’s Day, a bitter irony for my own mother and a deep loss that profoundly shook us to the core. My grandmother had been our anchor in this world and we didn't know what we would do without her. Over time, we were able to heal and remanence on the many wonderful years we shared with her, rather than dwell on the loss. The sadness of the day was further removed eleven years ago, when I was blessed with my first daughter. I loved being a mother and making memories together with my own mom. It renewed my love for the holiday and I fondly remember how special it was the first year after having a child. Two years later I celebrated with a second daughter, and five years later I had my first and only son. I had the picture perfect family and looked forward to sharing the day with my completed family of five. But my hopeful plans were destroyed when my son passed away from SIDS (sudden infant death syndrome) one month before Mother’s Day. I was devastated. I was broken by the fact I never got to spend a single Mother’s Day with him, and I feared every single one after, would remind me of my tremendous loss. I never wanted to celebrate Mother’s Day again. But life doesn't work that way. My daughters still wanted to make me cards and gifts and I didn't want to hurt them by showing the pain the day brought me. And the most surprising thing happened through my allowing them to love on me, I slowly began to appreciate the holiday again. This year, with my two older girls and rainbow daughter, I am finally looking forward to it once more. I will always be a paradoxical mother with mixed emotions, celebrating both as a mother of three daughters who are here with me while never forgetting I am also a mother to my little boy in heaven. I chose to live for the ones who are still here, never forgetting the ones who are forever absent. But time does bring healing and three years later, Mother’s Day has a deeper meaning than ever before. Not to spite my losses but because of them. I appreciate being a mother more deeply, knowing how temporary life can be. Each day with my children is a gift and I plan to make the most of each one. So, this Mother’s Day, I plan to bask in the love my family graciously chooses to give me, never forgetting that although I only see three, I will always be a mother to four.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

3 Years Without My Son

I wouldn't say it gets easier but it does change. The beginning is so different from 1 to 2 to 3 years, but the missing and longing never goes away. You just learn to live with it and give yourself room and permission to feel it.
How are you doing? I get asked this often, espicially when it's angelversary time. There is no easy answer. No formula to get through the day - the worst day of my life. This day is and will always be dreaded and mourned, it is, after all, the day my 8 month, 26 day old son was taken from me, when all my hopes for the future ended and turned to memories. There felt as if there was no future without him. Along with my child, I lost pieces of myself. My identity as a mother to a boy, a mother of three, naivety when it came to parenting and the sense of a complete family. There will always be a piece missing where Dylan used to be and should be.
Today, I think of how you would be at almost 4-years-old. You would already be in preschool and you would be going to Sunday school every week. I think you would love toy trucks and Star Wars because of your daddy, Disney princess movies and dress up because of your sisters, and story and cooking time because of mommy. You would be the perfect mixture of rough and tumbly along with your ever-present sensitive heart. Your hair would be blonder than ever and your crystal blue eyes would twinkle with joy.
I miss you every day bubsy, but what gets me through all the difficult times, when the loss threatens to overwhelm, is knowing, one day, we will be reunited. I look forward to hearing you laugh again and finally getting to dance with you while choirs of angels sing. Oh, what a glorious day that will be when I see you again and nothing will seperate us. Until then, I will continue to hold vigile. You are not forgotten. You are still loved beyond words and never doubt, mommy is coming to be with you one day.