Mother's Day Necklaces

I like celebrating the grandmas. It takes some of the pressure off how I'm feeling about the whole loaded day. I like to channel my energy into celebrating the grandmas. Yes, I feel very grateful I have two extremely needy children to hug. I also appreciate what most moms appreciate on that day; peace and quiet. The irony. But oh man. Will it ever feel right knowing Andrew will never be involved in the whole celebratory bit? Meh.

Ever since Benjamin's first year, I've made photobooks for each month of the previous year, including places we've gone and family we've seen. They also have a book from Andrew's pregnancy and birth. The grandmas love these, so I use them as a gift (which is totally the best gift I can think of!). Considering Mother's Day always takes place in May, it also lights a fire under me to get the photobook made. It takes me a solid 1.5 months to complete these books, averaging about an hour each day. It takes forever!

With that said, I love creating them because I get to review all the great times we had that year and knock out three birds with one stone. The two grandmas receive them as gifts and I have two additional printed for Benjamin and Claire. They'll have one for each year of their childhood.

The photobook is great, but it's the same gift each year. I also like to think up something creative and kid-friendly that the kids can do to celebrate their grandmas at this young age. This year, I used this tutorial to make heart fingerprint necklaces for the grandmas.

Other than my perfectionist nature not liking how my kids were not perfectly paying attention and cooperative with the exact angle of their prints (ha!), I think they turned out quite cute.

We had enough clay to make quite a few. Benjamin made his own and painted it... what else... pink.

Not Our First Rodeo

It seems I post about this same subject every now and again. Obviously Mother's Day and Father's Day came and went this year and we have B in our arms to hug and love on. We're thankful. We feel lucky-- like we scored the biggest deal or something just being able to bring home a live baby from the hospital.

My husband came home from work yesterday and told me that he was excited about working the next day, because then no one would congratulate and ask him how his first Father's Day was anymore. That the day after would be over. Reminds me a bit of when he returned to work after losing Andrew and he had to deal with the awkward condolences and overly sad looks. He was happy to go back as soon as possible, not only to distract himself, but to get that part over with.

Friends who came to see us in the hospital wished Elliot a Happy FIRST Father's Day on Saturday.

So is that it? Was Andrew, just like that, forgotten by these people? Because he's dead, does that then mean my wonderful husband did not become a father at conception, or at the very least, in that hospital room, holding his still baby boy? I think his 7lb. 6oz. of weight and pictures would be enough to assume he'd reached his fatherhood milestone already. Before Sunday. I even have Mother's Day and Father's Day cards to show for the two years prior when we were both already a mother and a father. I guess I just don't understand why it's so important for people to throw in the word first.

I was walking to the grocery store with B in the stroller the other day and a woman was speedwalking behind me. Of course she speeds in front and peers in {sometimes I feel like they might just crawl in, they're so nosy}, asking how old B is. She then tells me she'll be a grandmother very soon for the first time as I congratulate her {speedwalking still}. She then asks if B is my first, as if it really matters to the stranger and considering our conversation is coming to an end quite soon... and I told her he was my second. Her response?

Wow! Well aren't you ambitious!

I felt insulted for a few reasons. I'm turning 30 in just a few months. Do I not look fully capable and mature enough to handle birthing two children at this point in my life? I suppose I could take that as a compliment, but anyway. I just hated hearing those words, as if I had a choice and as if having children can really be classified in any way as being ambitious. It almost sounds like we were being careless and just randomly found ourselves knocked up with oops babies multiple times in a row. Because obviously we wouldn't want to have two babies 14 months apart. It quite disgusted me.

Mother's Day was similar, but I guess I sort of avoided it all. I threw away cards that indicated it was my first without much of a glance. Again, why must it be necessary to salt that wound? My husband bought me lovely earrings with B's birthstone and I wore my Andrew jewelry. We went for a nature walk and all I can say is that it was better than last year.

B is starting to sleep more at night-- well at least this week he has. When he doesn't wake after a few hours, I usually wake up in a cold sweat just wondering if he'll wake soon. The monitor tells me he's alive, but somehow I don't believe it. When he finally cries for food, I rush to use the restroom while I take in the sounds I wanted to hear for so long-- that I'm so thankful to hear in my home. I throw up a shout out to God for giving me B to mother and head into his room to kiss him, cuddle him, and feed him. I want desperately to remember what it's like to sleep through the night, but part of me isn't sure I can handle it. It's almost like I need to hear B's cries at some point in the night to remind me he's still alive. 

For now at least, that part of the year is over. At least next year we won't have to hear that dreaded word, first.

Another One Slowly Approaches

Mother's Day, that is.

As my friend Caroline put it in her recent post about the subject, I don't want to celebrate a bereaved Mother's Day because through and through...

I am a mother. Not just a bereaved mother. A real mother to two incredibly gorgeous boys. The only thing that sets me apart from those regular mothers is knowing what it was like to say goodbye. To live the rest of my years wondering and loving a child too far from my arms to touch. My motherhood started long ago when my hopes and dreams of being a mother were realized in March of 2010. That was going to be our year. Shoot, it already had been. We had just stepped back on U.S. soil not two weeks before after having my very last margarita (before ttc). We moved into our home. The home we bought to raise children in. For them to call home. It wasn't a home for us-- the two of us with far too much space to surround us. So many rooms unused. We dreamed of what it would be like the following year.

2010 was going to be our year.

No more than 2 months prior we were gallivanting around Venice, Paris, and Barcelona just enjoying the carefree lifestyle of being a couple without any inhibitions. Without borders. Without too much responsibility. We had it all and then some. We were blessed. We were thankful. We were in awe that our lives could be so grand. Wonderful marriage. Incredible explorations all over the globe. Purchasing a beautiful home where our future children would call their own. It all seemed so perfect.

And it was.

A bump in the road around the end of my first trimester with Andrew proved to be challenging, but we got through it. Skin cancer is curable. Treatable. We are strong. Our little boy was to be born that year as well, so how could that get us down?

And then it happened. The birth of our son. The son who made me a mother. An extremely proud, brokenhearted mother. 2010 equals bittersweet for me. So many highs and so many lows.

As this Mother's Day approaches, like all of them over these 3 years, I'm somber. I'll always see this day as a day to remember the beautiful face of a son I will forever cherish. Forever protect. While I hope future Mothers' Days are filled with sloppily painted pictures from children still developing those fine motor skills and breakfasts made by little hands, I'll always remember what Mother's Day means to me.

It means I was able to carry beautiful children that were both me and my husband and love on them for as long as I was/am blessed to have them.

 

Tru Dat

Mother's Day is a day of appreciation and respect. I can think of no mothers who deserve it more than those who had to give a child back ~ Erma Bombeck