Hanging On When Your Heart Has Had Enough

Last Mother’s Day I was pregnant with Mira, she was smaller than I grain of salt and I didn’t know she was there yet, but she was.  Four days later, on May 18^th, I would take a pregnancy test, and then three more just to be sure, and be filled with joy and bliss with no idea that exactly 7 months later I would be meeting her, and she would be welcomed to Heaven the same day.  On the only Mother’s Day that I was a mother to a living child, I had no idea.  The irony is not lost on me.  Joe did have a suspicion though, when on the way to church I told him his breath was too minty and it was making me nauseous.  I was convinced he had bought some horrible new toothpaste.  He didn’t say anything though, wanting to save me from disappointment if he was wrong.  He had seen my disappointment for too many months in a row at this point.  

For the last few weeks the “this time last year” thoughts have started.  It started on April 22, the date I had seen on labeled ‘LMP’ on every piece of paperwork through my pregnancy.  It is getting stronger now as I enter the time that I was pregnant ‘this time last year’.  There are so many anniversary dates coming up, and I know the date will haunt me as I write it down at work on each of those days.  They say those dates hit you the hardest in the first year after loss, and I imagine that is true and hope that some the pain of the less significant dates will fade over time, though I know diagnosis day (or D-Day as many call it in the carrying-to-term community) and her birthday will hit hard forever. 

I know the pain surrounding specific days of the week have faded as time went on.  Those first couple months, there was a unique memory and therefore aching pain associated with each day of the week.  Everyone told me Mondays would be hard in the beginning because she was born and died on a Monday.  They were right.  But Tuesdays were hard because we made molds and prints of her hands and feet on Tuesday.  And Wednesdays were awful, Wednesday was the was the day we watched her body wheeled out of the room in a hospital bassinet by our favorite nurse.  Thursday was the first day in almost 8 months that we spent without her, Thursdays sucked.  Fridays reminded me of the Memorial service that was to come, and then after, the Memorial Service that had happened.  Fridays were hard.  Saturday was the day we had a family get together before leaving for Philadelphia, the last time there would be a family get together of any kind that Mira would be physically present for. Saturdays reminded me she was gone now.  Sunday was the day that should have marked each passing week of my pregnancy.  If she hadn’t been delivered at 36 weeks, I would be 37 weeks, 38 weeks… I would be 41 weeks if she didn’t come on time… I would definitely have her by now and be sitting in this rocking chair with her in my arms.  Sundays were difficult.  And now we are back at Mondays, the day she was born and died.  

 

In the beginning there are no ‘good days and bad days.’  There are just horrible days flowing one right after the other.  You are drowning.  But with time, the days of the week that trigger you, turn into days of the month instead.  I am told eventually it will turn into certain days of the year. 

There are times I believe this, the “it gets better” line.  

There are days I don’t because it is hard to believe that on my darkest days.  On those days I think of the book Holes by Louis Sachar, which most people around my age read in middle school.  The book takes place, for those that don’t know, in a juvenile reform camp of sorts.  Each day the boys have to dig a hole, 5 feet by 5 feet, in the desert.  After digging his first hole, the main character is told by another boy, “don’t worry, the first hole is the hardest.”  The next day the main character is sore and tired from digging the day before and finds the hole even harder to dig and the other boy tells him, “really the second hole is the hardest.”  As time goes on each day he is told or thinks, “the 30^th hole is the hardest” as so on.  Some days grief feels like that. 

However, I am starting to have some “okay” days, and on those days I can believe ‘it gets better.’  I can believe that those okay days will turn into good days.  I can believe that I will start to go more than one day in a row without tears.  But today is not one of those days.  Today is a ‘holes’ day.  

Today it feels like the 146^th day is the worst.  Today I am so aware that on my only Mother’s Day as Mira’s mother with her alive, I didn’t know she was alive.   Its not that I feel guilty, there is no way I could have known, it was too soon for a pregnancy test.  But I do feel cheated.  I feel cheated out of so many things I could have had with her, including Mother’s Day with her alive.  I am still her mother, and Mother’s Day is for me too. But it would be so, so, so much sweeter with her in my arms. 

I would like to thank those of you that sent me a card or message for Mother’s Day.  It is appreciated more than you can know. My husband got me flowers from him and a plant from Mira.  So perfect.  And I just received an amazing package in the mail full of chocolate dipped cookies and berries (Emily S, you do far too much for me, and are the kindest most generous person in the world!). All beautiful reminders that I am a mother.  Happy Mother’s Day to all.  Happy Mother’s Day to my mother who first taught me to be strong, and showed me how to love a child unconditionally.  Happy Mother’s Day to my mother-in-law, who raised a wonderful man and the best husband anyone could ask for.  Happy Mother’s Day to all the mother’s I have met over the last year who so beautifully parent children in Heaven.  Happy Mother’s Day to all. 

In my daughter's eyes,

I am a hero,

I am strong and wise,

And I know no fear,

But the truth is plain to see,

She was sent to rescue me,

I see who I want to be,

In my daughter's eyes

In my daughter's eyes,

Everyone is equal,

Darkness turns to light,

And the world is at peace,

This miracle God gave to me,

Gives me strength when I am weak,

I find reason to believe,

In my daughter's eyes

And when she wraps her hand around my finger,

How it puts a smile in my heart,

Everything becomes a little clearer,

I realize what life is all about,

It's hanging on when your heart has had enough,

It's giving more when you feel like giving up,

I've seen the light,

It's in my daughter's eyes

(Martina McBride)