Last week I turned 31. The day started out great — simple, but great. It doesn’t take much to make a momma happy. ; ) I had stashed some packages and cards sent by family and friends in the corner of our dining room; I made my hot lemon water and enjoyed opening each one by myself before the kids woke up. I felt so loved and thought of — snail mail really is the best!
That morning we had a breakfast potluck with our mom’s group, then headed straight to a nearby park to let the kids burn off more energy. BOTH Méabh and Eamon napped in the afternoon — that never happens! I considered it a birthday miracle. : ) I can’t even remember exactly what I did, but I enjoyed puttering around a quiet house with no little people following me or asking for things. Amazing how a couple of hours of silence can rejuvenate me!
I had no idea that a few hours later, I’d be crying at the dinner table while forcing myself to eat take out Chipotle. I was really looking forward to that burrito bowl earlier but now it was completely tasteless. I hadn’t started cramping, or bleeding heavily, but the pinkish red color on the toilet paper told me everything: I had lost another one. No, it wasn’t going to be different this time, everything wasn’t going to be okay. The hope of a baby growing was gone and it broke my heart. I’m not gonna lie, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself — really God, on my birthday? Couldn’t You have waited just one more day??!
I’ll not get into details but if you’ve been in this situation you know it just plain stinks. Every time I’m hunched over in pain, I know there’s no prize at the end, no promise of a baby to press to my chest. Just a mess and an ache that seems to take over the deepest part of myself. Things don’t always go the way we want. I’m trying to stay positive, to pray, to trust, but I’ll be honest I still break down and have a good cry every now and then.
Being a grown up can be hard. I wish I could have blown out candles on my 31st, surrounded by friends and family singing. I wish I could have eaten a piece of my mom’s ice cream pie and laughed with people I love instead of crying myself to sleep. Oh, to be a kid again; to enjoy the simplicity of each moment without even realizing how simple it is!
Over the past few days, I’ve had moments where my sorrow turns quickly to guilt when I ponder all that I have. A daughter and a son, both healthy and growing; a husband who loves and supports me and gives the best hugs, who challenges me to pray and assures me this will pass.
Sometimes the hardest thing about being a mom is what has saved me with my last three losses: my children don’t stop needing me. I may want to curl up in bed and not face the day, but I simply can’t. They force me to be brave, to get dressed in the morning, to pick up messes, to change diapers, to go outside, to laugh again. Each minute, each second of the day, they give me great purpose, and I am grateful for that.
So, here’s to being 31. It didn’t start out the way I would have liked but that’s life. Here’s to finding joy again and being there for my family; to pressing into God even when I question whether or not He really hears my prayers; to not losing hope, to laughing, and to taking each day as it comes, because that’s all I really have.
