Three years ago today, we spent our first night in the hospital. We had no idea that you would arrive tomorrow. I always go back to that place around your birthday. I can remember what it felt like to see you for the first time. I remember being happy but terrified. I can remember holding your tiny hand and seeing the doctors working on you. Everything from the time we left the OR to the last time I held you is a blur. But I do remember holding you and thinking how perfect you were. I truly honestly just want you here. I just miss you. There is nothing else to say but I miss you more than I thought it was possible to miss someone and love you more than that. I imagine you would have been small and quiet like your mom. Maybe a little rambunctious like your daddy. We all miss you. It doesn't feel like it's been three years and at the same time it feels like a lifetime has passed. Happy 3rd birthday. I wish I had gotten to snuggle you this morning and let you eat cake for breakfast. I'm always going to miss out on this stuff and it sucks. I love you baby boy!
Happy Mother's Day to all the mommies out there today. You are all special and loved. I had my first Mother's Day three years ago, just a little over a week before our miracle was born. I truly don't remember it being much different than every other day. Of course, by this time we were living ultrasound to ultrasound and fearing the worst. I must not have felt like much of a mother that day. I was struggling with a lot of things and thought that I had failed my son as his mother. As time has passed, I've realized that I am a mother. A mother who has gone through one of the most painful experiences a mother and child can go through. While I wonder sometimes how I've made it all this time, I am proud of the woman who has emerged from the storm. Different, but not in a bad way.
To Connor: Being your mommy was the most fulfilling thing I've ever done with my life. I had the opportunity to mother you for almost 28 weeks. I dearly miss the time we had together and sometimes I wish I could stay in those days before your birth forever. Where you were safe and sound and loved more than you could understand. You are still loved that much. Thank you for giving me the chance to be your mommy. Thank you for keeping strong and reminding me you were still hanging in there just when I needed to know it. I wish I had been there to hold you when you left the Earth but I pray that you knew that I loved you. That you didn't feel scared or alone. I love you. Your struggle, our struggle, has changed me into the woman I want to be. You taught me so many things in your short life and I am thankful that we chose to let you call the shots. I am overcome with emotion thinking about you but there's more good there than there used to be. I love you to the moon and back.
To all the mommies out there: Whether you hold all of your babies in your arms, some of them or none of them, know that you are loved and cherished. You ARE a mother. Whether your children are adopted, brought into your life by marriage/significant other or your own, you are STILL a mother. Each and every one of you are fighting for what is best for your children. It doesn't matter exactly how you do things as long as you are holding your children's best interest in mind. You are all wonderful mothers. Motherhood is not a competition or a contest. Your children love you because you are their mother. They don't need some perfect mom who always does the "perfect" things, because they already have that. Hug your children tight today, if you are able. If your children are not with you, take time for you and do whatever helps you feel better today. <3
Mommy and Connor
May. I used to love this month. It was the real beginning of summer. So many good memories. Now, it's just so painful. I wish Mother's Day and his birthday weren't so crammed together. Mother's Day is hard for me. Am I still a mother? Abso-freaking-lutely. But my son isn't here to remind me of that sometimes. I'll never receive a plaster handprint or a clay pot he made in art class. I'm never going to see his little hands painted onto a piece of paper. He'll never run to me saying he loves me. While I want to be happy, that I'm a mother, the wound is still more raw than I let myself believe it is. I feel drained from the energy I'm expending to keep going and it's only the beginning of the month. It's so much easier to put on a front so that I don't have to answer questions. I don't have to hear the same crap from people AGAIN. I know I can have another. I know that he's not in pain. I know that in your mind, I should be "over it". I mean come on, there are people that have it so much harder, right? Sure... but this is hard for ME. Please don't compare me to anyone. Don't try to make me feel better with words that really only hurt more. Just tell me you miss him too. Just tell me you love him too. Just say that you'll listen to me talk about him. I'll never get over it. I hope that one day I am not devastated by this entire freaking month. But that day is not today. Please try to understand that every birthday and every holiday is hard. I am realizing that there are dreams that I didn't realize had died with Connor. And these days make my brain think about the what-if's. I am putting these dreams to rest slowly, as they show themselves. Please be patient with me. I don't want your attention or your pity. I want you to understand that this is hard. This is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. I wonder ,as we near his 3rd birthday, what he would look like... what he would like to eat... who his favorite super hero would be.... and you know what? I do this EVERY SINGLE birthday. Because I suddenly have new things to think about. He shouldn't just be growing up in my imagination and May makes me realize how unfair this all is. In the three years since we had Connor, I realize that I am facing new obstacles every single day. I just need everyone to understand that I need your support. I need love. And I need you to stop telling me to be thankful for what I have. I am thankful but I want my son and nothing will change that. Please let me grieve these dreams that I am realizing are never going to be a reality. Let me mourn my son. Without your snide comments and your "tough love". Do not be afraid to let me talk about him and do not be afraid to see me cry. It will happen no matter what. To the people who make an effort to remember my son with me: you may see me cry but it is not out of sadness. It is out of joy, love and gratefulness that he had such loving friends and family. My son knew nothing but LOVE. How wonderful is that? I believe that he felt no fear or sadness. His father was right there, touching him and holding him his entire life. He knew that I loved him. We had an incredible bond. I am thankful for the time I had with him. I am thankful of all the times he kicked me and wiggled inside me. But these things don't make me any less sad that I didn't get to see him grow and learn. That I didn't get more time with him. I don't think I'll ever be okay with that. In exactly two weeks, I will have a three year old. I almost can't believe it myself.