Being a mom has made me think of and miss my mom more than any other time in my life. More than my graduation, first heart-break, engagement or wedding…probably combined. My mother passed shortly after I turned nine years old. This year was my second Mother’s Day as a mom. The first one, I found myself visiting her grave. Which I don’t think I’ve ever done alone and not more than three times with a group of people. As a mom, I have a whole new insight into her thoughts and probable mindsets. She was sick for many years and told she couldn’t have children. Well, she proved them wrong and had four of the cutest little blonde hair babies. I just can not imagine the heart process she went through as she was slowly dying while her youngest was still in pull-ups. I would have been terrified, probably because of my tendency to try to control things. Things that I think are good to control…like the raising of my child.
This years Mother’s Day I had less of a mind swarm of my own mother and had more of a focus on myself. I have an incredible 18-month-old. He is so serious in public and SO goofy and sweet at home. He LOVES to sing, jump, dance and go,” choo choo!” His little sponge brain is spitting out new words and he’s discovering new things daily. We decided to start trying for another baby the end of last year and quickly succeeded only to lose it shortly after knowing about it. It was hard, but I kept reminding myself of others who I love, who’ve had a WAY worse time in that area of life. That and the comfort my mom has a grandbaby she gets to love on now really made it all ok. I had peace through most of the ordeal. We were advised to wait several months before trying again. The timing fit with our cross-country- move and we’d be able to try as soon as we get settled. So we got our practice on. Then BOOM ol’ nasty Aunt Flo arrived. Like a scene in a move that makes no sense, it just pisses you off. My emotions were out of control. I cried all day. I didn’t leave the house. No amount of logical reasoning I could conjure up could snap me out of the funk. “You should be thankful, you have a baby.” “They say a miscarriage is a good sign, at least your fertile.” “______ tried for a year (plus) and still have no luck, be grateful.” “______ has had way more miscarriages than you, be thankful.” All these and more just kept buzzing in my head as I tried to console myself. Nothing worked. I never expected the first cycle after being cleared to try, to be that devastating. It makes total sense, I guess I should have thought it through more. I’m some aspects I felt entitled to a baby….immediately.
I’m sure my mom expected to raise her children, to wipe all their tears, to dance at their weddings. Truth is, I expect to have lots of kids. I dream of having a full house of laughter, tickle fights, movie nights, bond fires and forts made from blankets.
This weekend brought up loss and celebration like I’ve never known. I am working on letting some expectations go and becoming a more hopeful person. Life is never what we expect…some good, some not so much. But I have to keep the hope! Expectations hurt too much.
We celebrated Mother’s Day on Saturday because Josh had finals due on Sunday. He sent me to get a massage on Friday and then Saturday we took a scenic train ride through Fillmore, CA. It was so much fun! There were several families on the train and the kids all played as we chugged through avacados, oranges, and lemon orchards.