Best Birthday Ever

Yesterday marks the 2nd birthday without my mother. Last year I felt her loss to my core and every minute was one minute closer to the day being over. I was grateful for the birthday wishes but I also wanted to pretend it was just another day. I was angry, and bitter, and grief stricken. Worst birthday of my life. 

As the day approached this year I was extremely nervous of how I would feel, if those same feelings would overwhelm me again. I didn't even mention my birthday to the kids until that morning; which I realized after that that was not the best choice. They were so sweet, upset really that they didn't get me a present or were ready to celebrate. And in that moment I realized I had taken something from them. However, we didn't dwell and I let them spoil me with breakfast and cuddles and by the last moments of the evening I was humbled by how incredibly happy I was. I realized that my mother was still giving me presents on my birthday. How grateful I am for the lessons her journey has taught me but also who I have become because of her. I have never been more at peace, more in love, more grateful for my incredible family, more sure of who I am and where I want to go, and so happy my heart was filled completely with joy for the first time since she passed. No guilt for the happiness I felt, and if she's somewhere watching over I know how happy that would have made her. 

A few months ago I wrote a post about being motherless on Mother's Day and although I truly felt her loss intensely that week, I realized how false that statement really was. As I sat by the fire last night, my four angels sleeping soundly, enjoying the quietness with my best friend and soulmate; all the women who are mother figures in my life started coming to mind. From the best mother in law a girl could dream for, to the women who are my sisters, to my aunts and cousins and nieces, my neighbors who pop in, to my friends who are mothers and aunts, to a Facebook community wrought with incredible mamas, and to the mommy blogs that continue to teach and make me laugh. How lucky I am to be surrounded by so many incredible women and I have never felt more loved, more supported, than I do now. So thank you for the love, support,  friendship and being patient while I found my happiness again. I am so grateful.

A tough week

The week leading to your birthday was a tough one. Most days I can push through the sadness that has been burned into my heart, realizing that this is just the way things are now. The roller coaster of cancer finally derailing us all off track. Each struggling to find a new way along an unfamiliar and solemn road. In a way it's brought us closer and I know that that would have made you happy. 

I fought back tears while I filmed Veronica's first dance recital. So proud of her glowing and smiling and confidence; amazed really as she is normally very shy when people are staring at her. She shined and you would have loved it, excited that I found a dance teacher that values developing the person not just teaching steps like you gave to me. Anger bubbled under the surface at the unfairness of it.  You would have been there crying with me, happy joyful tears -- instead I fought sad tears that you were missing it.

That same weekend came my first Mother's Day motherless, I was overwhelmed by the hypocrisy of my emotions. Both happy and in love with my family, but also detached so I wouldn't feel the pain of your absence. This of course doesn't really work and it's exhausting on every level. Then leading up to your birthday, anxiety that this will be the moment I lose it in public. Never knowing when it will happen but fearing it will every time I'm out in the world. I used to only see the pity not the empathy; felt the scarlet M seared across my chest, publicly branded so that everyone I crossed paths with could see it too. Fighting back the urge to scream when an innocent comment from someone unaware leaves me wanting to say "she can't go into business selling her amazing hats my daughters still love to wear because she's dead." But I can't say the words, I won't because it's a whole new level of reality that I don't wanna face. One more day that person has no idea that our worst fears that day my dad called, and said something happened to mom, came true.

I love this picture of you. A rare true smile caught on camera and you let me have it. No more insecurities, just joy that we were celebrating with 59 gorgeous roses. Even this birthday was a dream come true. That was 2 years ago, but it feels like a lifetime away. 

A few weeks ago dad and I took MLK Jr Dr to take the kids for a play date at the museum. A winding, serene passage from the highway to the hospital. These gorgeous arched bridges that remind me of the bridges we saw the first time we visited NYC in Central Park. Along MLK Jr Dr are parks and monuments; each one dedicated to someone or something. There was a monument under construction during your stay downtown that is called the cancer survivors monument. Every time I drove past it I wanted to throw rocks at it. So angry that you never even had a chance at surviving cancer. That we couldn't sit there one day after you were in remission and be grateful together that you were given a new lease on life. It made me resentful and hard as I rounded the corner and headed back to the hospital; mad at the world. A painful reminder that there was not going to be a happy ending to your story.

Headed to the museum that day, it didn't hit us until we were on it where we were. Both dad and I sat in silence left to our own thoughts, mine both lonesome and loving, a beautiful reminder of you and just like that you were there with us. I felt a connection to you and it was comforting. We didn't say much more than a startled acknowledgement of the road we were on, but I hope he felt your presence  with us that day as I did and could find some peace in that moment as I did. I was surprised that I was happy to see the monument was finished and I was taken aback by it's beauty. 

Until recently, my grief and anger were too strong to realize how wrong I was, that you absolutely were a cancer survivor. Everyday you lived with cancer you were a survivor. Every time you were scared and instead found a way to smile and be grateful for one more day, you were a survivor. In the lessons of the beauty in strength, that we are worthy, of wanting to spare us the heartache of your loss for one more day, you were a survivor. 

Of course we prayed that you would see sixty never truly believing it. And as we approached the day, your day one year ago, I got nervous that something would happen just before and you would be gone. But you did make it. I had gotten decorations and balloons and a cake to celebrate. I came down stairs that morning beaming, so happy we had one more birthday to celebrate. You smiled when I said happy birthday and I started to decorate around the hospital bed. As you watched me you became irritated, insisting I was wrong. And if you could have you would have slapped me over the head like grandma used to do when we disappointed her, I could see it in your eyes. Maybe I should have talked more about the big 6 0 leading up to the day, but I was so scared I'd jinx it. You were a good sport even though you thought I was crazy wrong and we celebrated with cake and watched Annie (the original). I wish we could have all climbed in your bed and surround you with hugs and cuddles and love, but we were too scared we'd hurt you. So I settled for holding your hand; both of us holding on for dear life.

And although I hugged my kids harder on your day, I couldn't find the strength to celebrate your birthday with cake and singing, let alone even tell the kids you should be 61 that day. But one day when the kids can understand I will take them to your monument and tell them of strength and beauty and worth and what it means to survive. Your story encompasses it all.

I started training for a 10k at the start of the year, my race landing on the one year anniversary of grandma Palmer passing, and a few days after your birthday and Mother's Day. I didn't realize the significance of the day until my phone chimed in with the reminder shortly after I finished my first race, and although she lived a long and beautiful life it was a loss I feel deeply too, another part of my life and my heart gone. Another affirmation that I was on a path that was true for me.

When I started training I needed something to focus on, get moving after baby number four, and I liked having a structured program to follow. Somewhere along the way running became a great place to put all these emotions. About 15 minutes into my soundtrack is where I want to stop the most. Where I almost convince myself to stop every time, and then the song "I bet my life" comes on my playlist and even though I wanna cry it pushes me forward. And although this is not a literal interpretation of our relationship, far from it actually, there are aspects that resonate deeply. It's the resurgence I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Running feeds the overwhelming need I feel to refuel and gear up, but also gives me time to soak up all the goodness in life. It is inevitable that tragedy will strike again, it is the way of life. It's not a matter of if but when, and I want to be ready. And part of that is putting myself first, and also squeezing in as many cuddles and laughs I can get. I may not have lost an inch or a pound; it may not matter how healthy I am or how well I eat; but if it gives me one more day where my children don't feel this ache, then I will do it. 

One step for every day you survived and a step for every day I get to love my family fiercely. To choose me, that I am worthy, that my kids are worthy of one more day.

A Letter to my Unborn Son

Hey there buddy boy, less than a week before your arrival! We are so very excited to meet you, and kiss you, and hold you. The best part of this past year was finding out you were joining this family, but it has also been a difficult one; our lives flipped upside down and inside out. A roller coaster ride to say the least. We moved into a new home, in a new town. We opened the doors to our first restaurant, and we said goodbye to too many loved ones. Many highs and lows and through it all, your birth has been the light at the end of the tunnel, the joy we all desperately need, and the reminder to cherish the good life brings. At times it felt this moment would never arrive, and yet here we are just days away now. Truly amazing. You are joining a crazy but fun and loving crew, and I know you are the piece we never knew was missing. You are a gift and are loved unconditionally. 

There are a few things you need to know and a few things I hope for you before you climb aboard this crazy train.

We are cuddlers. There is nothing better than climbing in the big bed and snuggling up with some netflix. When it was just the twins, they easily took a side and everything was right in the world. When Sydney joined the pack I was nervous how we would continue to cuddle together, and feared someone would be left out. But we just adjusted. Making room and fitting together like puzzle pieces. As you grow in my belly, your bump has created the perfect pillow that your three siblings now fight over and giggle every time you kick them. The prime, and most coveted, cuddle spot. I was worried for nothing. And now even though I'm not sure how, I am certain that we will adjust again and everyone will find a way to snuggle in. I hope you are ready to join in; it's kinda unacceptable not to.

Daddy works a lot, but this is all for you and your siblings. He loves this family with all his heart. He is working hard to build his dream and give you everything - including more family time. It is temporary. I promise you will see him a lot because you will grow up in our restaurants and no doubt will be in the moby wrap soon while your daddy and I work. It will be what you know, what is familiar, and what is comfortable. I hope that these memories stay with you and help define your work ethic, sense of responsibility, and love for good food.

Your big brother, has been (im)patiently waiting for your arrival since Sydney tipped the scales in the girl/boy ratio of our family. He has been waiting so long for a roommate, someone to dress alike with, but mostly someone to beat up.  I will make him wait until you are bigger, but know that this comes from a loving place to rough house and from years of making him be gentle with his sisters. I hope that your desire to play with him matches his desire to wrestle, tackle and throw balls at you. I hope you are the best of friends and that your competitiveness is driven by your desire to push each other farther and not from bitterness or resentment.

We like to travel. For now, a few hour road trip to visit family or on the road for days to the beach in Florida. Your siblings are all road warriors and I promise you we'll do everything we know to make the driving a great part of the trip. I hope you also share their disposition and find the fun in traveling. It won't stop us from road tripping if you don't, but it will make it a lot less enjoyable.

You have a lot of family that loves you, but don't get to see you often. Your dad and I have followed our dreams to make the best life we can for you all, but that required us to move away from our hometowns. I know they may feel like strangers at first but they are not. And as you get older you will begin to remember them and miss them and look forward to our next visits together. I hope that you will open your heart anyways and let them hug and kiss and hold you close.

Bedtime is at a reasonable time around here. We started sleep training when the twins were 6 weeks old and Sydney fell right in line, and it worked. Don't be the exception to the rule, please! Mama and daddy need their quiet time too and that comes with a standard of early to bed. I promise I am a better mommy with my downtime, and you will feel better well rested. I will never understand how parents deal with kids at 9,10,11 o'clock at night and I really don't ever want to find out. I hope you value sleep and naps as much as the rest of us.

I will cry the day you are born for many reasons. The first being the miracle of you, a gift given to us and I love you. Another because there were times through this pregnancy I wasn't sure how I would make it to this moment, just that I had to and shutting the door to this chapter is a welcomed relief. Life can now move forward. And though there are so many hearts and arms ready to greet you and love you, the one who would hug you the hardest is missing. The loss of my mama, your Mimi, will be overwhelming and writing this through the tears just makes it more glaringly obvious how hard it will be without her there. But mostly, my beautiful boy, I will cry because you free me to be happy, to love fully heartedly, to live for one moment and get lost in it. I will cherish your birth day and savor every second.

As you grow your first few years of life I wish many things for you. I hope you are not as shy as Veronica but not as fearless as Sydney. I hope you are as energetic as Franklin but not as rigid in his desire to control everyone and everything.  I hope you love to learn and have a curiosity that runs rampant. That you enjoy being alone and playing on your own at moments. I hope you are funny and sweet. I hope you love to laugh and play Ring Around the Rosie with your siblings -  going so fast I have to bite my lip in nervousness and then laugh as I watch you all fall in a heap of giggles. I hope that your tiny hand always finds mine and easily snugs into the perfect moment of pure trust and love. I hope you always run to the door to greet daddy and that he will forever be your hero, because he is all of ours. I hope you are sensitive enough to play princess tea parties with the girls but tough enough to take what your big brother is ready to dish out. And love them all for it, because at the end of the day we all love each other and love being together. Through the fights, and whining, and even the tears; a silly comment can bring a smile to everyone's face.

None of this really matters, though, except one thing. I hope the most that you are healthy and thrive in this world. The rest we will figure out and adjust. Soon life will be flipped upside down again, but this time no matter what you bring to the table, it is all for the better. You have already made me a better, stronger, and happier mama than I could ever be without you. I can't wait to meet you, baby boy.