Here and There (Six Months)

Six months and Mother's Day...a double whammy. Everyone knows what joy a six month old baby brings. It's that magical age where they are no longer a newborn and their personality starts to shine. They smile and laugh and babble and coo. They scoot and crawl and explore their world around them and I have to miss all of it. 

Ted is so attached to Jason right now. All he wants is his daddy. He wants Jason to give him a bath, read him stories and hold him for bedtime prayers. I love how much he loves his dad, but it makes my arms ache all the more. If Lily were here, I would want and need him to be with his dad more. I would be grateful for that bond. But she's not here...and all it does is remind me that it shouldn't be this way. 

My arms ache for her. every. single. day. It doesn't matter what day of the week it is or if it's the 12th, 15th or 29th day of the month. I miss her every single day. I want her in my arms. I want to see her eyes, hear her voice, and watch her grow. I am missing every single moment that should be.

Someone asked me if Mother's Day was hard and my response was it was weird. Not particularly good or bad, just weird.

On Saturday, my dear friend's mom who lost her daughter years ago took me out for breakfast. It was such a joy to visit with her, to share Lily with her and hear about her precious Marie. It's been many years and she still gets emotional talking about her. Oddly, that gives me peace. I don't ever want to "get over" Lily. I don't ever want to stop missing her or longing for her. Knowing there is someone else who has made it through this grief is comforting and inspiring. I cherish these moments of sharing with other mothers who know our loss. 

On Sunday we went to Mass as we always do. We got there a little early and one by one three seasoned mothers, all who have lost a child, sat near us. I have known these women for 13 years and I have always been in awe of their faith. They are models for me in living this life as a Christian wife, mother, sister, and friend. When I think of what kind of family life I strive for, I look to them. When we first learned of Lily's diagnosis, each one of them sought me out to let me know they were praying for us. Since Lily was born sleeping, each one of them checks in with me regularly. They get it, they are living it, and they know it doesn't matter how much time passes. Just before Mass, one leaned over, grabbed my hand and simply said, "Here and there. That's where we are... somewhere between here and there. I have one up there too." 

The feeling that has been overwhelming me lately is how unworthy I feel to be counted among these amazing women, to join the club none of us ever wanted to join. I am so unworthy of being a mother of a saint and I am in complete awe that God would entrust Lily to me. I am honored to be her mother, to experience a love so intense, and to get glimpses of Heaven that before I only dreamed of seeing. 

I feel so out of place, like I don't belong or fit anywhere. So for now, I am here and there, just like she said. Cherishing every single sweet moment with Ted on Earth and longing for glimpses and moments with Lily in Heaven. One could never replace the other, so instead, I continue this walk I never imagined taking, with one foot on Earth and one foot in Heaven.

Happy six months, Lily girl...mommy misses you so much.