One year unexpected, the next - in the forecast

It is Mother's Day Eve.  As I type this blog entry, the snow is steadily falling to the ground and has already formed a thin blanket on the ground.  It has been snowing for hours now.  I am feeling something I don't often feel - true happy.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that my life is brimming with sadness.  I have a great husband, a wonderful home, a job I enjoy, a loving family, fantastic friends and am blessed with so many things I am grateful for.  Unfortunately, every day is a reminder that someone is missing from my life.  This cheerful, always smiling little soul.  This giggling and wiggling little boy.  That notion that weighs on my heart, day in and day out, takes it's toll on my happiness.

I know it's ironic that I feel this way, when the goal of my blog is to spread happiness in the name of my son.  And I truly try every day to be happy.  I find ways to smile and have a good time most days.  I don't want anyone to think that I'm living in a dark, hopeless place filled with sadness.  I very easily could go to that place, but I choose not to.  Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that happiness comes easy.

Every day, I try to remind myself that my son would want me to continue living my life, a good life, a happy life.  It's hard, and I truly aspire to find that happiness every day.  I have joyful moments every week for sure.

This feeling I'm feeling right now though... pure happiness.  Last year, the thought of Mother's Day was tough.  I'd just lost my baby boy 2 months earlier and I was still struggling through the fog of those first months of grief.  It didn't feel right or fair.  It still doesn't and it isn't.  I had a hard time wanting to celebrate anyone, including my own mother and mother-in-law.  I just wanted to stay home and be with my thoughts.  I just wanted to be able to think of my son and remember him.  I kind of wanted to be alone, or at the very least, just with my husband.  I wanted to be in the home that Preston knew.  Where he was loved and happy.  It's where I feel closest to him.

We were supposed to go visit my in-laws but unexpectedly, a snow storm blew through and it was safer for us not to travel to the mountains.  I got my "wish".  I was able to stay home, and think of my son on my own timeless and not feel pressured into celebrations I wasn't ready for.  I believed wholeheartedly that it was a snowstorm from Preston.  He knew what I needed, and he gave it to me.  After all, my baby only really knew winter... seemed fitting that this blizzard was a sign from him.

It was probably just a month or month and a half after the "flash" snowstorm that had moved me so on a Sunday afternoon.  That storm that came out of nowhere and was over just as quickly revealing the sun in all its beauty.  That storm that gave me hope and felt like a message from Preston saying "Don't worry, as the storms come and go, so will your emotions, but they will pass, and the sun will always come back out".  Those storms have made me associate a lot of snowstorms with Preston.

As you may recall from one of my last posts, I've hoped for snow again this Mother's Day.  Not necessarily because I don't want to celebrate anyone else, but mostly just because I miss Preston and it would remove all doubts for me that last year's blizzard was just that a storm, and not a sign from my son.  It may not be Mother's Day quite yet, but consider my doubts gone.

You may say, well last year the storm was unexpected and this year, it's been in the forecast for days.  My friend and co-worker Lisa put it beautifully - "he had time to plan it this year".  Thank you for that Lisa.  You are right.  He certainly did.

Wishing a Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there; my Mom who instilled perseverance in my, my Mother-in-Law who's welcome me into her family as one of her own, my Aunts who have shown me that family supports each other through thick and thin.  My friends who have little ones of their own, you do a wonderful job raising those beautiful children.  My sister-in-law who's provided a loving home and continues to raise my smart and gorgeous niece and nephews.  My husband's sister who's currently expecting her first, and is filled with excitement.  My cousins who like my aunts, have shown me that family supports each other through it all, and who themselves have beautiful children who I one day hope to meet.

Wishing a gentle Mother's Day to the Mamas out there who have lost.  Whether you have living children or not, I know that it is a difficult day nonetheless.  Remember that you are a survivor.  Remember that your child matters, even though no one can see him, her or them.  You are a warrior, and a superhero Mama.  Don't ever forget it. <3

And to those who have lost their Mom, I know that this marks a difficult day for you too.  Cherish the memories of your Mom.  Remember the happy times, hold on to your favorite memories.  Share them.  If you feel you have no place to share them, I invite you to share them here.

Much love to everyone <3
xxxxxx

The Mother's Day Puzzle

Today is International Bereaved Mother's Day.  Today is a day I wish I didn't know existed.  If I had my way, I would be celebrated as a normal mother, on Mother's Day, in a week's time.

When society can't see your children, they don't think of you as a mother.  You aren't having the sleepless nights that come with having a newborn.  You aren't stretched thin between your mom, wife and work responsibilities.  You don't worry about your child getting hurt as they start walking, or when they are playing outside.  You don't have to prepare bottles, do endless loads of laundry, or console a crying baby.

What society fails to understand is, you are still a mother.  You have the same amount of sleepless nights, if not more.  Except instead of waking up to your crying baby, hungry baby or wet baby, you wake up to the realization that your baby is gone.  This happens, every single time you wake up.  For a long, long time.

You may not be stretched thin between the same responsibilities as a regular mom, but you are stretched thin nonetheless.  You have to continue performing your daily tasks, as well as deal with a roller coaster of emotions.  You have to battle those instincts of feeling you are supposed to be doing something - like getting that bottle ready, buying more diapers or putting away onesie after onesie.  I would also argue, that I still try to teach Preston about the world.  I talk to him often; sometimes just to tell him I love him and miss him, sometimes to teach him about the new flowers that are growing around our house.  I talk to him about patience.  I try to show him how to be a good person.  Unnecessary I know, he's got the best teachers in Heaven.  Regardless, those motherly instincts to want to teach your child don't go away.

I may not be able to worry about him ever getting hurt, but I also can't ever worry about him getting hurt.  No booboos to fix with a kiss.  No crocodile tears.  No making your kid stay home because they aren't feeling well and feeding him toasts while he watches cartoons under a blanket all day.  And sure, no fear of greater injuries, but I'd rather have that fear, than nothing at all.

Despite all of this, I understand that being celebrated as a mother, would be a tough concept.  Even for me, the mother in question.  What am I celebrating?  I don't feel like celebrating without my son.  What do I want out of Mother's Day then?  Perhaps recognition that I am a mother, despite everything that's happened.  A day to think about Preston and be happy.  Remember him and all his kicks and smiles.  Reminisce on that pure happiness that once existed in my life, and hope.  Hope that one day, I can find pieces of it again.  And as long as I'm wishing for things, at the risk of becoming highly unpopular, I wish for a blizzard.  Like we had last year on Mother's Day.  Like we had on what should have been my first Mother's Day.  That day, where I felt closest to my son after having lost him just a few short months before.

If you are reading this and are like me, a bereaved mother, whether through miscarriage, stillbirth or child loss, whether you've had more children after, or if you had some before - you are a mother.  You are a beautiful, strong mother.  I wish you peace today, and peace next Sunday, as Mother's Day rolls around once again.