I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 32.
I remember last year, another mother of loss sent me a message on my birthday saying:
"Happy birthday seems like a weird thing to say because I know this is probably not at all the birthday you had in mind, so I will just say... birthday!! Hoping next year brings you peace and healing!!"
I remember thinking gah, she is so right! It took time, but this year did bring peace and healing.
Do you sit and ponder your previous year right before you become another year older? I do. Just like before ringing in the start of a new calendar year, with birthdays I also think of the past years that have lead to the "me" I am at that very moment.
I remember last year thinking that at 31, though it was two months after losing our son and I was hurting deeply, I had the joy of knowing the deepest kind of love. Of having it demonstrated and extended to me by my parents and family members, by my husband, and now by some of my friends who epitomized true friendship. I knew what it was like to create something so much greater than myself, another life, and then have that manifest into the most wonderful thing I've ever done.
Turning 31, I encountered the greatest loss I can imagine, one that didn't make sense and went against the natural order of life. By 31, I had given birth and then laid my child to rest. I had made funeral arrangements for my baby. I knew what it was like to say goodbye far too soon. To get a call from the funeral home 10 days after he was taken from me saying his death certificate arrived and they needed my verbal permission to go ahead with the cremation. That I hadn't checked the boxes correctly and they needed to verify if I wanted to identify my baby via in person or by picture now 10 days later, or if I waived that right. I had that sheer distraught panic of knowing that my precious baby had been on a cold slab for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I had a moment of hysterical break down when I passed that funeral home the next day on my way home from a friend's house (coincidental, I swear) and pulled into the parking lot sobbing my eyes out, knowing my baby was still in there, not with me, he was alone. Don't worry, I wasn't about to go bust down the door or anything, I just needed that moment to be as close as I could be to him one more time. I tell you, an experience like that does something to you, friends. That's something I haven't shared here until now.
Last year I remember being in such a heartbroken state thinking surely by this time next year we will have a baby in our arms. Surely. Oh the life lessons and experiences that 31 would hold.
I remember last year thinking that at 31, though it was two months after losing our son and I was hurting deeply, I had the joy of knowing the deepest kind of love. Of having it demonstrated and extended to me by my parents and family members, by my husband, and now by some of my friends who epitomized true friendship. I knew what it was like to create something so much greater than myself, another life, and then have that manifest into the most wonderful thing I've ever done.
Turning 31, I encountered the greatest loss I can imagine, one that didn't make sense and went against the natural order of life. By 31, I had given birth and then laid my child to rest. I had made funeral arrangements for my baby. I knew what it was like to say goodbye far too soon. To get a call from the funeral home 10 days after he was taken from me saying his death certificate arrived and they needed my verbal permission to go ahead with the cremation. That I hadn't checked the boxes correctly and they needed to verify if I wanted to identify my baby via in person or by picture now 10 days later, or if I waived that right. I had that sheer distraught panic of knowing that my precious baby had been on a cold slab for 10 days. TEN DAYS. I had a moment of hysterical break down when I passed that funeral home the next day on my way home from a friend's house (coincidental, I swear) and pulled into the parking lot sobbing my eyes out, knowing my baby was still in there, not with me, he was alone. Don't worry, I wasn't about to go bust down the door or anything, I just needed that moment to be as close as I could be to him one more time. I tell you, an experience like that does something to you, friends. That's something I haven't shared here until now.
Last year I remember being in such a heartbroken state thinking surely by this time next year we will have a baby in our arms. Surely. Oh the life lessons and experiences that 31 would hold.
By 32, I now know more pain than I thought possible, but I also now know redemption firsthand. I lost grace and had it restored. I've gained important friendships through a new walk of life, strengthened existing ones that taught me more than I thought possible, and parted ways with others who couldn't stand with me in darkness. I've learned how to stand with others in their darkness, to not just be there in the good times, but to show up in all times.
I've learned humility, more about humanity, a truer sense of empathy and compassion.
I've learned a lot about my marriage, about my spouse, and because of that I got off cruise control and learned how to love my husband better in the ways that he needed, as he has taken the active effort to do the same for me.
I've learned to cut out and just remove the bullshit from my life. Pardon my language but that's what it is sometimes, straight up bullshit. I didn't realize how much of it I muddled in my before loss life but can now distinguish it from what is truly important.
I've learned to appreciate my family even more so than I already had. As I was laying in bed over the weekend, I thought about how Hudson will always be my first baby. He made us Mommy and Daddy. Regardless of him being with us or not, that was the most special day to Max and me because we became parents. As we prepare to welcome Hadley, that day will be immensely special to us as well, as will any of our baby's births we are blessed to have in our lives. Individuals are celebrated on their birthdays but what a special day it is for their parents and family members too! This birthday, I wanted my parents to know how it's not my day but it's OUR day. I made them parents. We had a huge family dinner celebrating all the summer birthdays in our family but in my mind it wasn't just the birthdays, it was celebrating a family unit. I've never looked at a birthday like that before.
As I enter this new year, we don't have that baby I thought we'd surely have in our arms by this point, but we are hopeful of her upcoming arrival. For more than a decade my birthdays have been a production. I've spent the better half of my professional career in event planning, so planning parties are my thing. As Facebook reminded me of pictures from birthdays past, all the themes, costumes and fun exclaiming BEST BIRTHDAY EVER, I had a moment of reflection.
This year, 32, was just us. Over the weekend, we had a dinner date just the two of us at my favorite restaurant. The following night, we celebrated as a family, with all of my family. We spent my actual birthday enjoying a day off together at our favorite spa, then doing everything and nothing at the same time. We took a nap and hung shelves in Hadley's room. We cooked our favorite meal together with a jazz playlist going in the background. Max made me a birthday cake. After dinner as I came out from our bedroom to all the lights off in the house, the only light came from the glow of birthday candles. He sang happy birthday, with George panting in the background, baby girl wiggling away in my belly. At that moment, I realized that this was the best birthday.
I know myself better than I ever have before. I have a sense of personal fulfillment, when last year I felt empty and before then I was always looking for something more. This year, I feel more whole than I ever have. So here's to another year older, and to whatever 32 has in store.
I've learned a lot about my marriage, about my spouse, and because of that I got off cruise control and learned how to love my husband better in the ways that he needed, as he has taken the active effort to do the same for me.
I've learned to cut out and just remove the bullshit from my life. Pardon my language but that's what it is sometimes, straight up bullshit. I didn't realize how much of it I muddled in my before loss life but can now distinguish it from what is truly important.
I've learned to appreciate my family even more so than I already had. As I was laying in bed over the weekend, I thought about how Hudson will always be my first baby. He made us Mommy and Daddy. Regardless of him being with us or not, that was the most special day to Max and me because we became parents. As we prepare to welcome Hadley, that day will be immensely special to us as well, as will any of our baby's births we are blessed to have in our lives. Individuals are celebrated on their birthdays but what a special day it is for their parents and family members too! This birthday, I wanted my parents to know how it's not my day but it's OUR day. I made them parents. We had a huge family dinner celebrating all the summer birthdays in our family but in my mind it wasn't just the birthdays, it was celebrating a family unit. I've never looked at a birthday like that before.
As I enter this new year, we don't have that baby I thought we'd surely have in our arms by this point, but we are hopeful of her upcoming arrival. For more than a decade my birthdays have been a production. I've spent the better half of my professional career in event planning, so planning parties are my thing. As Facebook reminded me of pictures from birthdays past, all the themes, costumes and fun exclaiming BEST BIRTHDAY EVER, I had a moment of reflection.
This year, 32, was just us. Over the weekend, we had a dinner date just the two of us at my favorite restaurant. The following night, we celebrated as a family, with all of my family. We spent my actual birthday enjoying a day off together at our favorite spa, then doing everything and nothing at the same time. We took a nap and hung shelves in Hadley's room. We cooked our favorite meal together with a jazz playlist going in the background. Max made me a birthday cake. After dinner as I came out from our bedroom to all the lights off in the house, the only light came from the glow of birthday candles. He sang happy birthday, with George panting in the background, baby girl wiggling away in my belly. At that moment, I realized that this was the best birthday.
I know myself better than I ever have before. I have a sense of personal fulfillment, when last year I felt empty and before then I was always looking for something more. This year, I feel more whole than I ever have. So here's to another year older, and to whatever 32 has in store.
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