Norah,
Today is my second Mothers' Day without you, Norah. Today you would also have been 17 months old. The 12th of each month has been difficult, as it marks the passage of time and I constantly think of how old you would be, what you would be doing, how you would look and be changing. All things I will never know. Our therapist said she would like for us not to anticipate the 12th of each month as much as we have been - that we should try to start to view it as just a date on the calendar. She said when her dad died that the date of his death was not a monthly reminder of how long he was gone, which I can understand. When my dad died, I wasn't fixated on the 15th of each month, at least not after the first six months or so. But, for us, the 12th of each month is significant. For most parents, the day of the month on which their baby was born is significant. Whenever people ask parents how old their baby is, they refer to the baby's age in months. "She's 15 months," or "She's almost 18 months old." Given this, I do not think it is surprising that the 12th of each month has been difficult for me. I wish I could say, "Norah IS 17 months today," rather than that you would be... Because, sweet girl, you existed. You were never a "would be" for us. You were our sweet girl, our joy, our excitement, our hope for the future. And that's all gone now. Will it ever return? I sincerely doubt it. How can such sorrowful despair ever turn to pure joy? We will always miss you. We will never forget. So, for at least this year, I will most likely struggle with the 12th. Usually the record of "age in months" stops around two years. No one goes around saying things like, "My baby is 26 months old." I think after that two-year mark the 12th won't be so ominous for me, but I really don't know. Maybe if we get pregnant again a lot of these things on which I fixate will fade and sting less. I won't know until we get there...
17 months. My sister and I are exactly 17 months apart. I was born June 3, 1981 and she was born November 3rd of the following year. My mother would have become pregnant with her when I was seven months old. Kevin and I started trying for another baby seven months after you were born, in July of 2012. If I was as lucky as my mother, I would be giving birth to our second baby today, exactly 17th months after the birth of our first. With the lead up to this Mother's Day I, understandably, have been thinking about my own mother. She was nothing like what I hope to be as a mother to our children. She was distant, critical, strict, and just plain mean. She was selfish and cold. As an adult, I find myself hesitant to do things or to be honest about certain things I mess up because harsh punishments and put-downs were commonplace when I was a child. If I tell Kevin I forgot to do something or that I messed up something, I dread the response because I never knew any response other than chastisement. When he is gracious and understanding with me I am taken aback. I almost feel like I deserve to be ridiculed, or to hear about how irresponsible I am - it is ingrained in me to expect the worst. My mom never held us - not that I can remember, anyway. I don't remember getting warm hugs and "I love yous" from her. I don't remember walking hand-in hand, unless it was to cross the street because it would have been an inconvenience for her if we ran into traffic and got hit by a car. I don't remember her ever telling us we did a good job with something we had worked hard on. I really don't have many, if any, really good memories of my mother. She is a narcissist and could never really get far enough outside of herself to love anyone else, let alone her children. My dad suffered because of this, so much so that it claimed his life.
So, as I reflect on the type of mother I had, and the fact that she was blessed with TWO living baby girls in a mere 17 months, whereas our baby girl was ripped from us and we are still struggling 17 months later, I am filled with bitterness. It just is not fair! Why would she be given such blessings and not even treat us well? Why would a woman who God knew would not shower her children with love and affection be allowed to have them, while Kevin and I weren't allowed to keep Norah? This isn't to say that I wish I had never been born. I just wish it had been different. Sometimes I think that maybe my mom got her joy early, and that in her later years she'll reap the consequences of what she sewed. That also is not to say that I would ever do anything to deliberately hurt my mother. She is who she is, and I have grown to accept that I cannot change her. Even though it may sound like I harbor resentment, I really do not....well, maybe a twinge, but nothing like what I felt for her years ago after my dad took his life. She is just not what I need in a mother. She is not the type of person I would choose to befriend or associate with if I had the choice, so I choose not to allow her to hurt me anymore. Honoring your father and mother does not mean giving them free reign to continue to hurt you. Sometimes it means accepting them for who they are and letting go if that relationship isn't healthy for you. My mother is not healthy for me. She has inflicted damage, some of which I sometimes think might be irreparable. But I am grown now, and I will not be her final judge. All I can do is make the best life for me and my husband and know that God will bring justice in the end.
So, this is not a Happy Mother's Day. Very few Mothers' Days have been happy for me, before and certainly after having you, Norah. While I definitely have contemplated the unfairness of everything, I have also thought about what being your mom means. You have given me a lot, sweetheart. You showed me things about myself and your daddy that I never would have known, had you been permitted to stay. You brought me to God and introduced me to Jesus, and now I am one of His children, and I know I will see you again in Heaven at the end of my journey here. I was so far from God before you were born. I don't know what it would have taken for me to run to him had you been permitted to stay. Maybe I never would have approached him... But it doesn't matter, because He is mine now, because of you! You've given me compassion and understanding for others who are grieving. You've given me the confidence to know that with God I can survive anything. You've given me strength, love, joy, sorrow, courage, and the tenacity to hold on for a better day. You've given me a reason to be, even in your absence. I want to make you proud. Even from so far away, I want you to be able to turn to God and say, "That's my mommy. She is the best!" I want you to be proud of me. In everything I do, I want to remember that I am your mother, and that I need to act in such a way that would make you proud. I try, baby girl. I do. Sometimes I fall short, but I do try. Most of all, sweetheart, you have made me a mom! I am a mother. I carried you your whole life. I felt you twist and hiccup inside me. Your blood coursed through my heart and pumped through my veins. I will forever be a part of you and you will forever be a part of me. I am so proud to be yours. I hope you are proud to be mine too. I will love you forever and ever, sweet girl - to Heaven and back!
All my love,
Mommy
