Mother's Day

The week leading up to Mother's Day was a rough one. So many reminders of what I don't get to be and don't get to do. It's strange how some days I can listen to people talk about their kids, and I'm not phased. Other days, it's torture. Last week was all torture. There were some things that helped though. Flowers from my in-laws. A rose bush from my parents. A sweet baby kitten from my step-daughter. These things just said to me that these people loved me, they thought of me, they acknowledged my pain. The day itself though was good, as I had the healing powers of tiny kitten feet running throughout the house distracting me.

Coworkers that were pregnant continue to be pregnant--as they should be. As I see their baby-bumps growing, I wonder what I would have looked like. If I would be glowing as they are. I wonder if I would have been filling out my maternity clothes that I had bought. I see them in their bliss and feel like I'm suffocating. I feel like that feeling may never go away. And it feels horrible to have that kind of feeling because of someone else's happiness.

It's interesting to me though who was willing to recognize that Mother's Day was going to be so difficult, who wouldn't acknowledge it at all, and who didn't even think of  it. Of course my parents did. They are grieving for me and for themselves through this process, so it only makes sense that they knew this would be tough. Though I do wonder if they know that every mother's day without Astrid is going to be difficult, not just this first one. My surprise acknowledgement came from a guy that used to work on my team that became a friend. He sent me the following in a text message that afternoon:
"I don't mean this to make you any sadder than you may already be. But happy mothers day. You are a great mom to [step-daughter] I can tell. And you help some of us out too. So thank you."
I was shocked. And felt so at peace reading it. There's so much fear that saying something is going to make us grieving mom's sad. And yes, I may tear up when it's acknowledged, but it's not because things are being made worse. It's not because I forgot that my baby died, and you just reminded me of it. I tear up because you might be one of the few people in my life who isn't afraid to say something.

Mother's Day Flowers

Rose Bush

Meet: 7 of 9! Or just "Seven" for short. It's a Star Trek thing.