Don't Read the Last Page

I usually do not allow myself to daydream about what Mira would be like or let myself fantasize about how things would be if she were here still.  Honestly, I NEVER do.  It hurts too much. I certainly have ‘what ifs’ that fill my mind.  I think “Oh, if Mira were here, I would take her to this place” or “I would buy her that for Christmas.”  But these are just fleeting thoughts, I do not allow myself to really lose myself in an imagined world of her here. 

I am actually pretty good about losing myself in other worlds.  When you have insomnia and anxiety it is a pretty effective way to keep your mind from racing at night, so it was my main coping mechanism as a teen and young adult until I got the hang of some healthier ways to cope.  Any avid reader could tell you how real a false reality can seem if you immerse yourself in it. So, to be careful to not let too much pain in, I don’t let myself imagine what my life would be like if Mira had survived.

The last few days have been different though.  I am not quite sure why, I think it is the anxiety and tension all around us combined with all the people getting to be home with their kids right now.  The night before last, my mind went there, and my God, what an amazing life it would have been if it were real.  I could picture Mira, two years old, long brown wavy hair, dark brown eyes, cute button nose and round cheeks asking to sleep with Daddy and I because she could feel the worry we had.  I could feel her between us as Joe slept.  I could hear her sweet voice.  I could feel warmth of her hand on my arm.  I could think about what I would do with her the next day to keep us busy.  We could draw chalk on the sidewalk.  We could swing on the hammock.  We could read books.  We could watch some of the movies from my childhood on Disney+.  We would probably have to watch Frozen II a few times.  It would all have been so beautiful. 

But it was not real. 

She is in Heaven.  Happy. Loved. She doesn’t need to sleep with us because she has no fear.  She is protected from all pain and sickness. And I miss her, I miss her so much.  I miss the infant Mira that I knew.  But I also miss the toddler I never got to meet and learn too.  I miss that life I imagined as soon as the test was positive.  And that will always hurt.

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi
I can tell that it's going to be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or you're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you

And I will hold on to you

(Taylor Swift)

I think it is healthy to acknowledge all that.  To acknowledge what Joe and I lost.  What our parents lost.  What her aunts, uncles, and cousins lost in knowing her.  I think it is healthy to recognize all that, even though it hurts, and it is scary to let the pain in.  Pushing it away it just another kind of fantasy, except in that one you pretend the pain is not real and the future was never planned.  Refusing to acknowledge that does not make it any more the truth than imagining my toddler in bed next to me makes that the truth.

After acknowledging the pain, there is another step though: recognizing all the good that is still part of this life.  Yes, I would prefer a life with Mira here and that would have been an amazing life.  There is still so much good here in my real life though.  Joe is just an amazing husband.  He does not get enough credit because he does not brag, and I am not the post all about your husband online type.  But he is an amazing father and husband.  He kisses my forehead, wipes tears from my eyes, and whispers “You are an amazing mother” in my ear everything he sees that look on my face.  He takes care of more around the house than any other husband I know, just so I can focus on my second job that I love and the volunteer work I am passionate about.  He quietly stands by me no matter what.  I can be fully myself around him, and he is totally okay with all my weirdness.  Embraces it even.  He is just the best.

We have three perfect pets.  I mean, Albus is probably the most needy and strange dog on the planet, but he quietly lays his head on my lap and sighs when I say that I miss Mira and I know he is thinking, “me too.”  Lexi has somehow managed to remain the head of the household for eight years despite adding a husband, dog, and another cat.  Through all her toughness, she still sat beside me and purred while I decorated Mira’s area for Easter today.  Iris brought light and life back into our home at the most impossibly dark time.  I’ve never met a cat more ditzy, but sometimes I wonder if she just does it to make us all smile.  She loves a good cuddle more than any other cat ever as well.

I have amazing parents.  My Mom and Dad are always there for Joe and I.  They drop things in a second if they are needed.  They exhibit so much love and strength, and I learn from them all the time still.  My in-laws are so, so good as well.  I know so many people who cannot get along with their spouses parents and I know how lucky I am that being close with mine is just so natural, their love for Joe and I is just so clear.  Because of my parents and his we never have to wonder about how we would survive if we lost our footing in the world, we know all four of them would pick us up.  And it is not just Joe’s parents, his whole family has welcomed me as a part of their life since I met them.  His aunt, uncle, cousins, and siblings are always there when we ask, and even if we don’t.

I have people who I get to meet with at least every other week just to learn about God and pray for each other.  These people have stuck by Joe and I through it all and never stopped showing support and never put a timeline on our grief.  I have friends who continue to find ways to express support and love even when we don’t see each other often.  I have met new people I never would have without Mira.  Amazing people, people that make me understand what it is to ‘find your tribe.’  I have reconnected with others that I had lost touch with.  I have some amazing people in my life.

Joe has a job he loves. After spending several years in positions he had just to have a job, he now goes to a job he really enjoys with supervisors and coworkers who love and appreciate him and his work.  I started a new job six months ago and have found a level of acceptance and appreciation at my organization that I did not know existed.  I am doing something I love surrounded by people just as, and even more, passionate than I am about helping others, and doing it with significantly less stress than in previous jobs. 

And there is so much more.  I have a good life.  I have heartbreak.  So much heartbreak.  It will always be there, the pain of losing Mira.  I know this goodness will always be there too, and it will carry Joe and I through until we are with Mira again someday.

PS- Happy Easter Mira!  I haven't been able to decorate for Easter since you left us, I've only put a few thing in your area, but today I put decorations for Easter through the whole house.  They are a little musty after all this time, but after some work they are doing better, just like your Mommy.  I love you sweet girl, I hope you like your bunny!