The Things We Hold On To

Over these last two years I have learned there are certain times as a grieving mama that will knock the wind out of me and, regardless of the passage of time, take a good while for me to rebound from.  No matter how hard I try there are days my heart just holds on to.  Mother’s Day is one of those days.  No matter how hard I try to get myself into a good place, a prepared place, it is a day that I just come apart.  This year made it extra complicated and, maybe for that reason, it was extra tough to drag myself out of the funk. 

 

Mother’s day weekend brought us to Long Island for my cousin’s little girl’s First Communion.  So, after crying my way through Kennedy’s fifth birthday, simply unable to fathom how we got this far already, we made our way down.  Communion’s are big on Long Island, little mini weddings for some people, and while my cousin didn’t go quite that far, it was a great time-especially if you are a newly five-year-old, thoroughly impressed by the big fancy dresses, and a party with a DJ, magician, candy-bar, and make your own sundae station.  It was a good break, getting to see my family laughing in a way you can only laugh with people that knew you when you were young.  It always gives me a chuckle to see their faces as they watch Kennedy and then turn to me so say- always the same thing- “I could swear I’m looking at you at that age when I see her.”  

Regardless of the fun we had, I could feel a nervous energy brewing inside of me; unable to sit anywhere too long-just trying to stay busy and keep my mind off of everything.  Wanting so badly to hold my cousin’s baby girl, yet knowing the ache in my heart it would cause.  As I rocked her to sleep and felt her warm little body, there was a different kind of aching though; the kind that reminded me that while I will be there again soon enough with our new little one, there is a still a little baby boy that I would have given my last dying breath to rock to sleep just once-and I will never be able to let go of that.  Just like that, my nerves were unleashed and I felt a tiredness settle on my heart that made itself at home for a few days.

I wanted to get back home.  I wanted to go “see” my boy at his spot.  I wanted to be with my children together.  So after a long ride back home, and unfortunately in the rain, I made my way with Kennedy, and the little boy growing beneath my heart to go visit their brother.  And it struck me as I stood there:  I am a mother in every facet of life you can be one; mother to a little girl, mother to a child that has passed before me, and a mother-to-be.  I was overcome by the emotion that all three of my babies fill me with and by the time I had Kennedy back in the car, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.  I sobbed.  I didn’t want to; I try not to have her see me in that state when I can help it-she’s old enough to remember it all now and I don’t want her to remember me this way.  But as I looked back at her and saw her little, empathetic face, she just said, “I know Mommy, you just want all your babies to be together, right?”  I tried to say yes but nothing came out, so I just nodded my head and made our way home.  

When I got home though, Kennedy wanted to give me the presents she had made for me at school so I tried to collect myself and look as excited as I could.  I’ll tell you though the second she handed me the big envelope that she had written on and decorated, and she pulled out, with pride, each of the things I could feel the tears starting up again.  She gave me the silhouette with its bejeweled frame, and the card she had written in.  But it was the last thing that did me in; “I Love My Mom Because….” I held my breath, praying when I found her name it wouldn’t say something like, “I love my mom because even though she is a mess most of the time she feeds me donuts for breakfast!”  As I read through some of the others I knew my fate was sealed; and then I came to her name.  It said: I love my mom because…she sings me a song when she tucks me into bed.  And the tears came; hard.  I thought with relief, maybe she wouldn’t remember the crying, or at least not only that; I was making it count in other places.  When I sing Bob Dylan’s Forever Young to her every night, that’s what is sticking; that's what she is holding on to.  Growing exasperated with my emotional displays she said, “Why are you crying now?”  And when I told her she said, “Ok Daddy, Mommy is having happy tears because she loves my present.”  This girl, I tell you, she soothes my broken heart in ways she might never understand.

I made it through the day but it was long and I was beat and so when Monday rolled around I was dragging.  The week was filled with visiting my friend and her new baby boy, pediatrician appointments where we were told to lay off the donuts for a bit, softball games, ninety-eight degree weather, where I got a glimpse of what this summer would feel like-which is not pretty and to top it all off an emergency OB check-up after a scare I had at work.  Everything is fine, but I realized that I am so bone tired.  Not the “your-six-months-pregnant-what-do-you-expect” kind of tired, but the kind of bone tired you get from being scared all of the time.  I just want to stop feeling like the bad news is coming; stop feeling like being told Carter is healthy, and I am healthy, and everything looks and sounds good is too-good-to-be-true.  But there you have it.  This is what a “rainbow pregnancy” looks and feels like.

And so after a lot of sleepless nights we were brought to our next family function for Sean’s cousin, graduating with her doctorate in Physical Therapy down in Pennsylvania.  And though there was a lot of uncomfortable car time during this quick down and back trip it was broken up with time with his family, a group of people that love hard and laugh hard.

Kennedy slept twelve straight hours last night and I was envious as I tossed and turned, getting just under half of that.  But when I peeked in on her one of four times I was up to go to the bathroom, and saw her little face- the peacefulness of it- I took a breath and tried to exhale some of the chaos my heart seems to hold onto so tightly, and went to sleep knowing that it is okay for things to be okay.

And if things get particularly rough, there's always fairy gardens. 

Party for Five

Birthday parties for Kennedy are a big deal for me.  Since the very first one I have spent weeks trying to make sure that they are special and fun, and that my little girl can feel how very loved she is.  I dropped the ball the year she turned three; the year Jack died.  The problem was her birthday fell on Mother's Day and so I just couldn't rally. We had cake and sang to her with Sean's mom and my sister and nephews but that was it.  That was as good as it was going to get.  Silly as it may seem, and I know that some of you read that and think 'sounds like a party to me' and you're probably right. Maybe the real problem was that my heart wasn't in it at all and the guilt from that still eats at me.  I always pray she doesn't remember me like that; that she was just too little. 

And so here we are approaching five.  I simply cannot wrap my head and heart around that.  How can this be?  So when she started talking about her birthday more and more, as we went to party after party for the friends she's made over the years, I wanted to make sure I got it right. Five seems like a big deal.  They are real little kids at five.  Everything starts- school, sports, real friends that they've made outside of the social circles they were born into; all of it.  So we talk and talked and trough around ideas-many of which I deemed not “good enough” or she vetoed, and Sean all the while saying, "Just let her pick!"  While I had these grand ideas swirling in my mind, the little guy cooking has got me feeling pretty exhausted and it seemed like more than I could undertake-and heaping any extra stress on top seemed unwise.  And so one day when she mentioned that she misses hockey (since it's been a while and the new schedule conflicted with dance class-big catastrophe) we said how about ice skating?  She immediately said yes and we booked it.  

Invitations were made and sent into preschool, mailed to the others and plans were being made.  She wanted 'Shimmer and Shine' decorations and, God help me, I agreed, though if I'm being honest killed me a little.  As people responded she happily checked or crossed their names off, getting more and more excited.  

The days leading up to the party-the nights really-I would lay awake and worry was this a mistake? How many 4-5 years old can skate?! Am I going to have a "party" full of frustrated, crying kiddos, whose parents were going to be wondering, "What kind of idiot has an ice skating party for kids this age?!"  But Sean, the non-worrier of our duo was unconcerned.  

We are seriously into skirts and dresses right now-which for a rough and tumble kind of gal mean lots of exposed scrapes and bruises and knees that no matter how hard I scrub always seem to be grass stained and dirty.  But still she wanted to wear a skirt so that plus a 'Shimmer and Shine' tee, mix in whatever padded hockey gear I could convince on her and we had quite the birthday party ensemble. 

We arrived early to set up.  We tested our marriage attempting to untangle the twenty balloon I'd made an utter mess of stuffing into my car earlier.  But all was well and as the kids arrived, the look of pure happiness on my little girl's face made all of my neurotic worries melt away.  

Being worried about these kids being able to skate or enjoy themselves? Ridiculous.  I severely underestimated the determination that pumped through the veins of our little ones.  Some of them took to it like they were born on skates while others hung onto the buckets for dear life but the smiles-oh the smiles were there.  Kennedy skated from friend to friend encouraging them and telling them how good they were and my heart felt full.  Watching this little girl, so in her element, so confident but still so concerned for the people around her that she loves and cares about. Magic. 

When it was time to sing to her, as I looked around and saw how happy she was and how loved she is, I found myself pleading, "Dear God, please let us be here again in five years.  Please let my little boy get here and allow us to enjoy the years leading up to it-preparing him to sit where she sits, basking in the love everyone has for him."  

You see, I am a parent full of flaws, sometimes flailing through the day just trying to make it to bedtime.  But I have to allow myself, like that day, to stop and take in the fact that I've got to be doing something right to have this kid be who she is.  I mean, don't get me wrong there is still plenty of time for me to screw her up and for her to become a real jerk, but I really believe that that last 2 year have shaped Kennedy into the person she is.  She cares for others in a deep way that seems like she is years older than she is.  She interprets feeling and situations that most adults overlook. 

She is loved for sure but, oh, does she love.  She is the reason to have kept going.  She is the glue for a broken heart.  She is the strength to begin again.

So it was a success.  Her actual birthday is 8 days away-we count down every night and double check in the morning.  Five years ago I impatiently counted down the days until she'd be here imagining how much I'd love her when she arrived.  I had no clue.