Not Your Average Mom

Today is Mother's Day, but I keep telling myself it is just a Sunday. That's hard when Mother's is plastered over everything. It is all over social media, television, the radio, and in the stores. Even if it weren't all over the place, it is stuck in my head. Today most people are celebrating with brunch, BBQs, and family time. I couldn't bring myself to do any other that today because it is not the Mother's Day I dreamed of when we were pregnant with Tenley.

I am a mom, but don't get to BE a mom. Those two things are very different. I had a child, I am Tenley's mother. But I do not get to do the motherly things that other moms get to do. I do not get to tuck my girl in every night, give her baths, hold her, kiss her, or sing to her. That's what I ache for today and every day, doing mommy things with Tenley. I'm not your average mom, I'm a grieving mom.

Always On My Mind

This last month has been very difficult for us. Tenley was due March 14. On that day we went away just the two of us to distract ourselves and try to relax. The day was better than we thought it would be; it the was the next day that things took a turn. When we got home from our overnight getaway the reality that we were arriving home without a baby set in. I was no longer "supposed to be pregnant". Now I was supposed to be home with a newborn.

Ever since that weekend we have grieved for her as if she died just yesterday. We ache for her and the life we should be living with her in it. People have told us that the hard times come in waves. This wave is a long one. I wake up every day hoping the pain will be less than the day before, but so far that has not happened. 

One of the hardest parts about this time of grief is that it has been a few months since her death and in those months people have begun to forget about what we went through and what we are still trying to get through. All around us people are having fun and sometimes they expect us to be able to do the same thing. Impossible. I am a grieving mother; my daughter died only 4 months ago. How can I be expected to go out and have a good time and forget that? When we try to go and have fun there are always things that trigger the pain and that is when the fun becomes impossible. 

I know it won't be this way forever, but as of now I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. I just have to trust what others say when they tell me that it will get easier. It's that magic word... TIME. Everyone tells us that is what we need to give ourselves...TIME. I'm sure it's true, I won't deny it, but man how much?

Three months

Yesterday marked three months since Tenley was born and today marks three months since she passed away. I cannot believe that three months has gone by. It seems like just yesterday I held her in arms and kissed her sweet face as she drifted to heaven. 

Most parents take pictures of their three month old babies and post them online saying how time has flown by. My heart aches that I will never do that with Tenley. Instead of taking pictures of her, loving on her, and gushing over how much she has grown, we missed her and I cried for her.

My husband and I decided that we needed to take a few moments somewhere peaceful to remember her. We went for a drive not too far from our home and found a beautiful spot to spend a moment commemorating her life. We climbed a little hill that overlooked a small valley and the mountains all around. It was the greenest I have ever seen California hills; the birds were singing, flowers blooming, and the sun just peeking through the cloudy sky. It was perfect. There we spread some red rose petals and a single rose for her. Although it was a painful moment, it felt good to do something for her. We have spent so much time grieving that we haven't celebrated her life since she has died. And her life is well worth celebrating, because it has changed ours forever. 

Truth Behind the Smile

Every day is different for us and we can never predict what kind of day it will be. Some days I can barely contain my tears, and other days I am numb to everything around me. Brendan has days where he is so angry that he struggles to make simple decisions, days when he seems to be okay, and other days he is numb. The pain is still as deep and awful as it was the day Tenley died. We are beginning to accept that this pain is something we will have to live with for the rest of our lives. Whatever the future may bring, it will not bring Tenley back. The whole in our hearts cannot be filled.

I can best describe the grief as a thick blanket of fog that lays over us. It makes it hard to see things clearly, to make decisions, and worst of all it makes it hard to see anything good around us. We have found that we can easily pick out the bad things going on in this world and struggle to see any good. We have learned that Earth is a place of pain and sadness. I know there can be happiness, but we cannot see it through the fog right now.

We have gotten to the point where we can get up every day, get dressed, and go to work. We have learned to smile and laugh when we talk to others. I can even say, "Have a great day," to people now. The smile is genuine, but know, that when you see us doing these everyday things, it is not because we are healed, happy, or moving on. That is us getting stronger. The more we live, the stronger we become. Each day we make a conscious decision to act in a way that will make us stronger as individuals and a couple.

Underneath what you see I am aching for Tenley. From the moment I wake up in the morning until I go to bed at night, she is on my mind. Some nights I even dream of her and how much I miss her. Every day I wonder why her life had to be so short. I know I will not have the answers until I am with her and our creator in heaven. Until then, I will smile, laugh, and function as I should, but behind what you see, the grief remains.

What is happy?

I feel like part of me is missing. Even in the moments when I am not thinking about Tenley and all that happened, I still feel this deep ache. It's exhausting living this way. Every day I get up and go through the motions. People ask me how I'm doing. I fake smile so people don't feel uncomfortable. I wish I could say... Horrible! I'm aching inside. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I have to try to function each day with this emptiness. The only word I can think to describe this is torture.

I don't remember what it feels like to be happy. It's been so long since I've felt it. I don't know what "having fun" is. I try to be more social and do things, but that doesn't make me happy. When I'm doing something I used to love I think about how easy it used to be to be happy. Now, happiness seems impossible. Sure I have calm moments, I can smile, sometimes even laugh. But it doesn't last long. A few seconds of numbness from the pain is all it is. 

I miss my girl. I want to hold her one more time. 

Celebrations

Sundays are difficult. Tenley died on a Sunday, so each Sunday I count the weeks since I last held her in my arms. Seven weeks today. Every day I reflect on all that has happened, but Sundays I am consumed with those reflections. I think back to when we first discovered we were pregnant. We celebrated together that night. When we told our parents we celebrated with them at a dinner. We celebrated when we announced to our family and friends that we were pregnant. We had a celebration when we learned that it was a girl. And we celebrated when she was born. After she died these celebrations seemed so silly and sad. But today as I reflected I realized they were not. We celebrated Tenley's life from the moment it started. And we will continue to celebrate it.

What Never Will

There are moments when the grief is so heavy that I feel like I cannot breathe. Those moments usually come after I have felt "normal" for a little bit. And the pain hits me like a block of cement. My chest gets tight, my heart aches, and I feel lost. Then I start to question the world around me and wonder how I got to this point. The pain is still so raw, as if she left me just yesterday, but it's been about seven weeks now.

I not only grieve the loss of Tenley, but also the dreams I had for her. While I was pregnant I would daydream about how our life would be when she was born. I imagined walking into her room in the mornings and her being excited for me to pick her up. I thought about how when she was hurt she would want me, her mommy, to comfort her. I was going to read her endless stories, teach her to sing songs to daddy when he came home, and do silly things just to make her laugh. But.... I will never see her smile or hear her laugh. I won't know the color of her eyes or if her hair was curly. I will never know if she was outgoing like me or quiet and thoughtful like Brendan. I don't get to go into her room each morning and greet her with a smile.

I torture myself with impossible questions- why us? Why did she get sick? Why couldn't anyone save her? Why didn't God intervene? While on Earth I will never have the answers, but I can't help but ask them. What mother wouldn't?

It's really amazing how someone so small who lived such a short time has impacted me so greatly. Being a mother, even for such a short time, is life changing. The love that I instantly had for Tenley is like no other I have ever known. That love is the reason that this pain runs so deep.