Making room

I sit in my daughter's future room and the amount of happiness that I have at the possibilities of our future fills my heart. 

Right now, however, the baby's “room” is a mess. There's a transition happening. The room has been my home office/craft/gift-wrapping/creative space for the past 2 years. It is underused and, honestly, the room's primary purpose has been to conceal my clutter – random craft materials, electronics, mail, documents, records and old bills. When I'm in this room, I look past my belongings and imagine the little girl who will spend her nights dreaming in this space. 

I so treasured the mother/daughter time I spent with my mom while she was alive. I honestly never thought I'd experience it again. That's not to say I didn't think it was possible, I just didn't think about the possibility of being in a mother/daughter relationship again in a tangible sense. Motherhood, not to mention having a daughter, was not something I dared to daydream about so freely. In no way do I want to put any expectations on an innocent little girl who is now only a pound and a half inside my belly - the weight would be unfair - but the thought of her and I just spending time together mends my heart in a way that is inexplicable. It touches my core and makes my heart full.

Presently our daughter's room is in my womb. It's safe in there and she's protected. Two hearts inside my body right now - a miracle that I don't dare take for granted. 

This little girl has got a few more months to grow inside of her room. I've got a few more months to organize her room on the outside.  We both have some more time to prepare for this whole new world. The room will be ready.  

Coping Mechanisms

It all sneaks up on me sometimes . . .

I am finally finishing up Steve Job’s biography (fascinating read, by the way) and am now reading about his last months. Coincidently, he shared some of the same last months as my mother. 

It's been a (very) little over a year since my mother passed away.

I’ve been thinking about what my mom had to go through towards the end of her life. I imagine what she must have been thinking about as she looked back on her time on Earth and the decisions that she made. I remember her making comments about her past. I remember her just staring at us all. I wonder what she must have thought about while she watched her loved ones. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her to say goodbye to us all - especially her children, her mother and her father. I am amazed at her bravery and I am in awe of her strength. 

Of all the ways to go, a terminal illness is one that looms. My mom’s illness only loomed for a short time before it took her, but those last days, weeks and months were long in my mind, as an observer. The pain I watched her go through. The deterioration. It’s amazing that although her body was being devoured by cancer, her spirit remained strong, stubborn and lovely.

She had to say goodbye to her children forever. The thought of it makes me hurt in ways that I struggle to explain: the head throbbing cry I have when I allow myself "to go there"; the constant ache in my soul; the pit in my stomach when I think about how much I miss her. The umbilical cord is cut. She had to let us go. We had to let her go.

All of this before I’ve even said “hello” to motherhood. I’ve already experienced the heartbreaking story of love and loss between mother and child. I’ve yet to experience the depths from the other side (being the mother) and, like I brave all changes in my life, I will welcome the journey with open arms . . .and prayers/books/therapy/yoga/good friends very near. 

I’m coping. I know you knew I would, Mom.

On Mother's Day

This will be the first Mother’s Day without my mom. Last year was the last Mother’s Day I had with her and I think somehow I knew it would be. When your mother is very ill and battling an aggressive stage IV breast cancer, it is easy to know such things.

I am at the age now where a lot of my peers (Facebook friends?) are becoming mothers. Amongst my closest friends, however, motherhood is still something that we have yet to experience. Despite this, over the past couple of years I’ve begun to feel like I should be a mother. (Although, to be fair, being wished a “Happy Mother’s Day” by strangers at a restaurant and a grocery store might have precipitated that a bit.)

Last Mother’s Day, I remember feeling left out and kind of alienated.

It was much the same feeling that I had during my visits to see my mom in the hospital and going to the Oncology Ward, and later to the Cardiac Care Unit, instead of going to the Maternity Ward like most women my age.  I felt oddly out of place and not where I ever thought I’d be. I felt years ahead of everyone else (losing a mother prematurely will do that to you) and yet left behind. I’d see happy couples and their families enter the elevators with precious bundles, while I would stare blankly at the flashing lit floor numbers in the elevator or offer a sad smile without eye contact.

In the elevator, the thoughts of “where I should be” would race through my head very fast yet clear, but most of my energy was focused on my mother and her health. I did not have time to contemplate my own hypothetical motherhood.  There were bigger battles ahead and there were bigger and more real fish to fry.

Now there is silence because my mother is gone. Those thoughts of “where” are more persistent and gain more of my attention. However, the “where” isn’t motherhood necessarily and it’s not where I “should” be . . .now it’s more where do I want to be.

On Mother’s Day, I want to be with my family and I want to remember my mother. I do not know how I will feel and I may just want to be alone, but I know I will see things more clearly. I will not feel such pressure due to self-inflicted expectations because I will embrace that my journey is different and unique. My timeline will never be like everyone else’s. It never has been and it never should be.

“Truth is by nature self-evident. As soon as you remove the cobwebs of ignorance that surround it, it shines clear. “ - Ghandi