i know this post is a little late… over two weeks late, in fact.
but sometimes, thoughts must mull for a while.
sometimes, feelings are complex and take more time to digest and process than a day and a conveniently-timed blog post would allow.
about 2.5 weeks ago, it was mother’s day.
it was my first mother’s day– in two ways.
i’m expecting. and whereas the baby is still in my body, my family, friends, and church people still view that as being a mother. and it is.
i got my first round of smiles and “happy mother’s days” and little hugs.
and it was nice.
b got me a certificate to get a mani/pedi and also got me a little at-home doppler machine so i could hear baby sounds. (note to self: if you are pregnant and have one of those thingies and run out of ultrasound gel… aloe vera sun care works really well.
so, throughout the day, i had nice waves of motherly warm fuzzies… as well as pretty toes.
and it was nice.
but it seemed like, within just a few seconds of the hug ending, or the smiles passing, or kind words ending, i felt the harsh bite of sadness.
it was my first mother’s day in another way… i was a mother of a child that was lost.
to be honest, i mourned my baby #1 a lot on mother’s day.
it’s hard to not think about how much closer i would be to holding a baby. how, instead of almost 16 weeks along, i would be barely a month away from having a little boy or girl in a ready, waiting nursery.
the grief is different than it was in december when the loss was ohsofresh…
but it is reemerging regularly again, as july comes and a baby doesn’t.
the weird part about this grief is the guilt that comes with it.
i feel ungrateful.
i feel like i don’t have the right to grieve because i have another baby to be thankful for. (and i am! i’m very thankful!)
it’s just weird… because every time the grief comes, i can’t help but wish i had that baby back. that things would have been different. but to wish that, to grieve that loss, seems to unwish *this* moment. this pregnancy. this baby.
because if i hadn’t have lost that one, i wouldn’t have this one.
it’s hard to think about it that way.
i was explaining this thought to a friend of mind, and she said that i’m presenting a false dichotomy… that i’m assuming that the love has to mutually exclusive, when it doesn’t.
i know it doesn’t have to be. and i know that it isn’t.
but it’s just hard.
the whole thing has been hard. and is hard.
and will probably be hard for a very long time.
as i’ve thought a lot about my bittersweet mother’s day, i realized that it probably always will be. i will always be a mother of a little one that no one has ever met, that no one will remember i am a mother of (except those closest to me). no matter how old i am, or how many children i have, i will know that there was always one more.
but maybe, as the years go by, and as God gives me moments with my children… and my closets fill up with hand-print cards and abstract pictures… and as i get to hold my babies and hear their laughter…
each mother’s day might grow to be more sweet than bitter.
at least, that’s what i’m hoping.