Things I learned from Mabel’s second birthday

Don’t be afraid to ask for the support you need or want.  I dreaded last year’s birthday and was quite sad. This year I tried to think of something that would help me anticipate the day in better spirits. Throughout the year, people often send me photos of things they find with carrots, reminding me that they’re thinking of my baby. These little sentiments mean so very much to me, so I thought I’d see if I could concentrate them all in one day.

I am still vulnerable.  So. Very. Vulnerable. Yes, I may talk a lot about babyloss. In fact, I’ve made somewhat of a career out of it, with my nonprofit work and my midwifery interest in it.  However, I am still a grieving mom and a relatively new one at that. Two years is just a drop in the bucket. So I sam still sensitive to people’s remarks, or lack thereof. After some unanticipated and unwelcome commentary, I had a breakdown and found myself in a very dark place, thrown back to those early grieving days. It took some time to crawl out of that hole and even though I did, I was scarred.  The day was the slightest bit tainted.

I’m still figuring things out. Last year I encouraged random acts of kindness and had a little birthday party with cake. This year I asked for Carrot selfies and spent the day mostly by myself and had cake with just my husband.  I’m not sure what I’ll do in future years. But as I try things on, I’ll find what I like.

I miss my forever baby. Despite those early wishes, the world did not stop turning when my Mabel died. My life move forward too-my once empty arms are now filled and the constant ache has softened. But I still miss all five pounds, five ounces of my firstborn, chunky cheeks and all.

People are awesome. I asked and boy did I ever receive.  Dozens of people posted on facebook, on instagram, via email and text.  Others donated to Hope After Loss or St. Jude in her name. I was overwhelmed by the response.

Thank you- so very much.

Carrot Selfies…

Ikea, revisited

Remember that time I was in line at Ikea? I saw someone I knew with her two young kids and I couldn’t bring myself to say hello- her with her two living, breathing children; me with only the memory of my dead one.

I saw her again.  At our local walk to remember.  I was there to remember my Mabel.  She was there to remember her first child, born still.

Oh, the stories untold.

Lunch date

They sat at the table next to us.  We were on a lunch date, me and Chris.  They were on a lunch date, mom and daughter.  Mom had the brussels sprout salad, daughter had the fried calamari, scrunching her face at the pieces with tentacles.  “Is that octopus?” she asked.  They both had fish for the main course. We left before they ordered dessert.  “Sociology,” the mom said. “No, he texted me! He said psychology!” The daughter corrected.  She was in high school. They had an easy banter between them, not “best friends” but clearly mom and daughter.

I know Mabel and I would never had had such a lunch date, nor easy banter with big words like sociology or psychology.  She would never had lightheartedly mentioned texting.  Yet I was envious of them.  In a different world, fifteen years from now, I could have been taking Mabel out for our own kind of lunch date. She would have been so proud to be out with her mom in a fancy restaurant, ordering from a grown up menu.  She would likely have squealed at the tentacled pieces of calamari and ordered the fried food over the vegetables.

An unexpected reminder of what will not be.