AngelMom, TTC

Angel Moms on Mother’s Day

Boy it’s tough… tough to be a Mom in general, I can see that. It’s tough though, to be a Mom on Mother’s Day when your child is in heaven.

It’s a confusing day, for sure. Stuck somewhere between wanting to just carry on normally and wanting to lock yourself in a room and pretend like the outside world doesn’t exist. Stuck between wanting to be acknowledged and appreciated like the other moms, and wanting to be totally invisible and unnoticed.

Take my trip to Starbucks this morning for example. The nice barista wished me Happy Mother’s Day and asked how many kids I had… I hesitated and for the micro-second between all the rushing thoughts had to decide if telling this gal, this stranger that I had a kid in heaven was really what I wanted or not. I chose not… and just smiled and said I had a “fur kid” at home. She went on to tell me how much better off I was (for what seemed like way too long). I smiled politely and into the distance so she wouldn’t be able to see the tears welling up and being sucked back into my eye holes. There’s no win there.

I want so desperately to be fine. Or just even OK… or better yet PART OF THE TEAM!! Lately I’ve made a career out of being distracted. Distracted by my diet, and exercise– which is going great, by work, hobbies and a week long vacation…. but sooner or later all that stuff you’ve been hiding from finds you.

I watch everyone around me live out my dreams and I can only seem to ignore it all for so long before I become bitter and scared that my turn may never come. As I’m lapped time and time again by my friends who get to have as many babies as they want ….

It’s no one’s fault but it’s just the worst, having all these feelings bubbling in there with nowhere to go but out- at never a convenient moment. A moment like a dear friend calling to tell you she pregnant… again… and you adore her AND her children to the moon and back but you just sit there and cry. Sobbing in traffic waiting for some sign that your turn is coming too….

I wish I didn’t feel sad, and guilty for feeling sad, angry, cheated… and just plain bitter. I want to feel happy for every miracle no matter who it’s promised to! But on a day like today… even with the fakest of smiles plastered on my face…. I feel the way I feel. And some days it cant be gift wrapped…

TTC

Only hope….

Sometimes I like to sit alone in my house just listening to the clocks tick away the time. The heartbeat of his home we’ve built. I imagine how much it will change when we finally get our wish and it’s taken over by the rumble of clomping tiny feet, screaming, crying, pooping and all the other ear splitting sounds that come along with parenthood….

I hope when that happens I’ll be able to think back and appreciate these silent moments, but not yearn for them. I hope that I never lose sight of how badly we want all of this. I think of that often. As I watch others with their children… they’re tired and they’re weary of wiping butts and boogers, of settling sibling disputes, of everything being sticky and smelly… of never getting enough sleep and catching every illness their kid brings home from school… and honestly I sit on my hands and can’t WAIT to sign up!! I’m sure it’ll all catch up to me some day, but for now I couldn’t be more ready to pledge the sacred Fraternity of Parenthood!

As I listen patiently to the tic tock… thump thump thump of my clock collection I imagine that it’s the sound of my baby’s heartbeat. I know it’s way too early to actually be the case….but something inside feels different this time. It may be in my head, or a side effect of the hormones, but I swear I can feel … something.

Apart from twinges, I’ve been feeling mostly positive; however occasionally I can feel the conflict inside… reminding me of the awful things that have happened in the past and how real the possibly is that they could happen again. When I feel those thoughts bubble to the surface it’s difficult to remember I’m in control of them, and I have the power to banish them. I catch myself just holding my breath and staying completely still so that I don’t mess anything up — but it’s time to breathe! Breathe and believe, that it feels different this time because IT IS…

There’s no room for doubt and fear right now… only hope

AngelMom, TTC

365 days without you…

I remember nearly every detail of that day. I know what I was wearing, and I have trouble wearing those clothes now, though they float like friendly-ish ghosts in my closet. I remember how I felt at any given moment of that gloomy Thursday. I remember how crushing it was to finally know, after 25 days of uncertainty that I was going to lose you. Karate… I’ve whispered to the wind how sorry I am that I couldn’t save you… and I mean it.

Nurses and doctors shuffled in at random, each learning my diagnosis and not one of them knowing what to say or do to help me. Some were kind, some were cold, sterile, others just stood with their mouths hanging open trying to find words to help– there aren’t any– I’ve checked. There were no options, no discussion, and there was no saving you.

As for me, I’ve spent the last 365 days trying my best to cope without you, in the wreckage and horror that was left after that day. Grief and loss, are a moving staircase. Constantly changing, mutating, and evolving. I’ve accepted that I will never truly be “over you” and thank goodness. I’m the only one who ever held you, nothing can change that. Of everything I lost that day, that fact will always be mine. You’re the one that made me a mom, even if you couldn’t stay I am still a Mom.

Honestly, when I opened my eyes after surgery I thought it would be impossible for me to laugh, to hope and dream ever again. I feared being asked even the simplest surface question such as “How are you?” because the only answer I could grasp was “broken and lost” – that’s a little heavy for ladies room small talk with a kind coworker asking as a common courtesy.

Fast forward to present day and I’m starting to feel like me once again even if only in fractional values. In an unexpected turn of events, I really did learn some things in losing you… and finally, I feel like I’m starting to unearth some of the bits of me I thought I’d lost forever.

I feel relieved… and proud to have survived this far and that I’ve turned so much of my own pain into power and hope for myself and others. It’s a funny thing… I would never have chosen this life if it was laid before me, but Karate you’ve forced me into a better version of me. A more mindful and grateful version than the one that once existed before. I think that girl died with you, I’m certain a part of me did that day.

I plan to press on through this ever changing maze in 2018… taking the best bits and pieces of me I can. Hoping and praying for another miracle… one that the world can handle because you Karate, were obviously just way more than the world was ready for.

I found this quote the day after I lost you… I didn’t appreciate it then, I think I wanted to, but the pain was still too overwhelming. It made me smile today, now that I’m strong enough to do so. Lightning will strike again, I believe that.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

AngelMom, TTC

Babies in public

  • Cycle Day: 35
  • Days Late: 2ish
  • Pregnancy Tests: 5 (I’ve been impatient) all negative
  • Mental State: Impatient and a bit anxious, but I think we covered that with the amount of tests I’ve taken…..

On my way home from work on Wednesday I was thinking about what to have for dinner. I’ve been going pretty hard on a daytime juice fast– so by the time dinner comes around I’m crazy excited for whatever meal Is going to happen- yay food!! I decided to whisk my husband away for a midweek date– ’cause we can. One of the benefits of not having kids that we frequently cash in on, is that we can do whatever we want without having to also consider a wee one.

We find ourselves at a local Mexican food eatery, and at the table closest to us is an adorable baby, probably 8-10 months old. Adorable. Squishy. Chunky baby!

She locks eyes with me and for the rest of our meal is giggling, smiling and reaching for us. Not an uncommon reaction I might add. My husband is always so cute with little ones, making faces and raspberry noises at them. He’s a giant kid, so naturally they all gravitate to his playful and hilarious charm. It’s the cutest damn thing ever.

There is a nuts part of me that just tends to linger on these fleeting moments and wonder…. where the heck is our chunky baby!?? And it’s hard not to feel shafted, angry, sad, resentful… and a thousand other things. For now, I’m focusing on her beautiful smile, how her giggle echoed and clanked off the walls of the restaurant and how good it felt to draw her attention even if only for a few moments, for whatever reason. She picked us.

For now, I can do nothing more than mentally pin that baby to my vision board… and hope the universe makes good at some point! I’m real exhausted, keeping the faith is my cardio!


Secret Baby Pinterest board full of cute babies!! Helps me remember how exciting and worth it this all could be! Can’t go near the thing though once AF hits!