Deep Roots

Putting down roots, I suppose, could be defined as the act of doing something that will keep you in one place for a lengthy period of time.  Sean and I stayed in the area after graduating college and bought a house we planned on raising our children in.  After having Kennedy I thought to myself I would have a hard time ever leaving the home we brought her home to from the hospital.  After having Jack and not coming home with him but rather laying him to rest in the cemetery about a mile from our house, I knew in my heart I would never leave him behind and move elsewhere.  So, I guess you could say the roots we have put down run deeper than most. 

About a week after we first lost Jack my sister, Sara, told me she and her husband wanted to buy us a tree to remember him by.  It was one of the most brutal winters we have had in a long time so the buying and planting of a tree was delayed by a while.  She had also told me to pick any tree that we’d want to have.  I felt like I had to make sure it was a good one; I owed it to Jack to make sure of it.  I finally decided on a Weeping Cherry and as soon as I told Sara she said okay, they’d get it over here as soon as we were ready. 

So, this weekend we quite literally put down roots that we hope will be here forever. Sara and her family came over to help us plant this baby tree that will grow the way we’d hoped our baby boy would have. She and Sean dug and mixed all kinds of special crap into the soil to make sure the little tree was set up to do it’s very best (Eric and I are more of the supervisory kind of folk).  When it was all safe and sound in it’s space on the lawn, I laid the beautiful stone Anne had given us down in front of the tree.  The whole setup looked perfect, like it was meant to be there.  It is, as my sister now refers to it, the tree that love grew.

When we were done planting, my amazing sister produced a helium balloon from her car.  It read ‘You're So Special’.  She gave it to Kennedy and Cooper to send up to baby Jack in heaven (or Kevin as Kennedy refers to it).  The two of them let it go without even the smallest hint of protest, which was amazing in-and-of-itself considering a helium balloon to toddlers is like a Lilly Pulitzer dress in Target.  They cheered as it floated away to heaven waving goodbye and saying, “Hi Jack, we hope you like the balloon. We love you. We miss you.”  Now I know, I know it is a terrible thing to set a balloon loose and that it could kill a seal pup or whatnot.  But truth be told, I was okay with this in that moment.  It did my broken heart some good to see his sister and cousin express real, honest-to-God love for a little boy they’d never met.

My boy would have been 4 months old today.  Just like that 1/3 of a year has passed and that, to me, is one of the hardest parts of all of this.  When you have a baby and are watching them grow, time just flies and it kills you because you want it all to slow down.  When you have a baby and they die time keeps flying; it just seems to crush you that much more.  So here we have it:  I have a beautiful family that happens to have a painfully empty place in it and a beautiful home that happens to have something new taking up some space in it’s landscape.  Something that is starting off small, maybe not looking like very much, but that will grow into something beautiful, that will make our house look like a home; something that will flower every year, reminding the world it has something amazing to offer.  In short, we have this tree that will represent everything I believe Jack Holden Doyle would have shown of himself to this world. 

Just call me Murphy

How does that saying go?  If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all?  Or how about Murphy’s Law? Anything that can go wrong will.  I know this sounds like a whiney start but after the start we had to our getaway to Sean’s dad’s new home in southern North Carolina on top of the year we’ve had thus far, it gets a little tough to not have that outlook. 

Mother’s Day ended up being a really rough day for me but I survived it and that is about as good as I could have hoped for.  I spent it with my babies the way that I am able to and tried to enjoy being with my girl as best I could. We sang happy birthday to her and focused the day on her as much as I was able to.  In the end though I was glad it was over and couldn’t wait to leave the next day to head down south. 

The plan was to drive to Long Island to my parent’s house on Monday morning and have my dad drive us to the airport since we were leaving out of LaGuardia.  We had an ok drive there but of course Miss Kennedy was not having it when we suggested a nap.  We made it to the airport quickly, got checked in and through security equally as fast, bought an overpriced ($7!!!) bag of gummy worms for her to snack on while we waited and on the plane only to find out that our flight was CANCELLED! After waiting on line forever in an airport that seemed to be on the budget plan for heating and cooling, all the while being assaulted by my overtired and therefore over cranky toddler I was about to lose it when were told we couldn’t fly out until Wednesday (thank you, Spirit Airlines, you were awesome <insert sarcasm here>).  In fact, truth be told, I threw a bit of a tantrum myself.  Poor Sean.  The guy never stood a chance of peace that night between these two mouthy chicks. 

We hung around for a few days, saw some family, stopped at a hotdog truck (guilty pleasure!) and made our way back to the airport for Take 2.  This went much better with a quick and smooth flight where not a peep was made from the little lady.  We met Sean’s dad and step-mom at the airport and began a great vacation that we’ve desperately needed.  The change in scenery alone was enough to allow Sean and I to catch our breath a bit. 

I’ve always viewed myself as a northeastern girl through and through but being down there in the warm weather and ocean and sand that was as fine baby as powder, I was able to understand the urge to relocate or become a snow bird at the very least.  Between watching her run in and out of the surf, collecting as many seashells as her little hands could hold, and walking around with a bathing suit full of sand, never once whining about it, I was one proud mama.  You see, Sean is not a beach guy, but I live for it. 

While I was enjoying being away, my thoughts never strayed far from Jack.  I knew it would look like a much different trip if he was there but I’d have taken it nevertheless.  I’m not sure if I give off a certain vibe when I am thinking about him but it is as if Kennedy can read my thoughts.  Multiple times she said, “I wish Jack Holden was here,” or “I really miss Jack” and “I bet Jack likes the beach too”.  In any case, I am always amazed at the empathy and sensitivity this this little girl shows. 

That’s one side of Kennedy.  The other side never fails to show she has lived up to the middle name we gave her.  Egan means ‘little fire’.  This kid shows the fire inside of her at every turn whether it is scolding her Papa for biting his ice cream instead of licking it, dancing in the middle of an amusement park like no one was watching, going on a bungee jumper I was too nervous to go on myself, explaining things to her father, who she already presumes is clueless, with her little hands on her hips, or riding a roller coaster most 3 year olds (or 7 year olds for that matter) would be afraid to go on.  There is a fire in her eyes and fire in her heart.  She loves everyone with a fierceness that is sometimes hard to understand that a baby could know how to do.  Simply said she is magic. 

And so as we wrapped up our trip and drove to the airport, only to learn we were delayed again (I mean you can make this stuff up), I was thinking about my luck again.  But as I looked over at this magical little girl that just announced, “I really love you guys,” it was very clear.  With Kennedy, I got luckier than some people ever are in life.  And the real truth of the matter is, in life it isn’t about luck.  It’s just about love. 

A Sunday Juxtaposition

Juxtaposition: n. the fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Believe it or not that word showed up on the SAT’s all THREE times I took the damn test.  Not once could I remember what it meant (you’d think after seeing it twice I’d have bothered to tattoo it on my arm or something).  Needless to say, I know it now and use it as often as I can, maybe my way of “sticking it to the man”.  I know I’m a real badass.

Just in case my tired little mind thought of forgetting what it meant, tomorrow will actually be a perfect and perfectly sad juxtaposition.

I have been dreading this Sunday since the day Jack died.  Sunday’s in general are not kind to my heart; they mark another week passing without my boy.  But this Sunday being Mother’s Day seems substantially rougher than any other thus far.  Aside from tomorrow being a day celebrating moms, it is the day my journey down the path of motherhood began.  Kennedy Egan was born, May 10^th, three years ago.  So once again I will be straddling two worlds, living through one of the sadder days in my life, which falls on one of the happiest days of my life. 

To say I have been dreading Kennedy’s birthday makes me sound and feel like an awful mother; and yet, there you have it.  It’s not that I didn’t want to celebrate my baby girl’s big day, quite the opposite.  She quite literally is my reason for getting out of bed every morning and so, truly, I celebrate her every moment of every day.  Her first two birthdays were pretty big, in terms of a baby/toddler party.  Earlier this year I was busy pinning party ideas for this year’s bash but when my life took a sharp turn and was upended, planning her birthday party was the furthest thing from my mind.  But the day was coming quickly and so Sean and I decided we’d just keep it small and have cake here at our house with our local family, my sister and her family and Sean’s mom and step-dad. 

Originally we planned to have it on her actual Sunday birthday but I knew I would be having a rough day and so I let myself off the hook a bit and moved it to today.  As it turns out though, Sean’s step-dad is out of town and my brother-in-law had to work so her small party got even smaller.  We set up the pool, bounce house and bubble fish (hand to God, it is the best $12 investment one can make at Wal-Mart) and just like that it was a party.  The kids had a great time, ran themselves ragged, surely earning their night’s sleep, never once even tattling on each other! We had a small BBQ, ate a delicious cake made by Baba and sang happy birthday to a little girl who, no joke, proclaimed to the table, “this is the best birthday party ever.”  And that right there is how I am still here.  She is able to take what little I have to give these days and still love me and know she is loved more than anyone can fathom.  And so even though me and my broken heart are exhausted, to have made her day in the smallest of ways makes it tiny bit easier to push through. 

Today was a good day. 

We celebrated our girl a day early in anticipation that tomorrow may be a little more than I can bear.  The plan is to get up and bring flowers to Jack’s grave and spend a little time with the boy who took a chunk of my heart with him to heaven.  And that’s it.  That is all I can plan for right now.  I am giving myself permission to be a mess and to maybe do nothing more than that.  I did plan to go to church but I don’t know if can or want to.  The truth is, today I feel a little pissed off with God.  I’m angry that, as a mommy, I am dreading tomorrow.  I am angry that I will never feel as happy on Mother’s Day again, as I was the first 2 years as a mom.  I am angry that, no matter what attempt is made by my husband and daughter to make the day special, I will feel that something is missing and hope with all of my heart that it does not hurt them.  I’m mad.  And so I’d like to think I’m being given a pass from mass tomorrow.  The goal is just to survive tomorrow; and to hope that after tomorrow ends the ache in my heart I’ve felt so acutely these last few days will return to the “normal” ever-present, dull pain that is there since January.

 To my mother, mothers-in-law, grandmothers, aunts, sister and friends that have become family: Happy Mother’s Day.   Thank you to all of you for showing me the ropes of this whole mothering thing and for holding my hand as I misstep and find my way. While I may be in somewhat unchartered territory this I know:  Loving your children is a universal phenomenon.  And as a grieving mother on Mother’s Day this is all I know about tomorrow:  I love my children.  I miss my son.  And I pray my daughter will feel as loved as she is.