Mixed Feelings this Mother's Day

I remember the first Mother's Day I celebrated as a mother...our first child --- our son --- was to be born in July, so I was fully pregnant and I would feel him kick but he had not yet joined us. Still, we celebrated. My husband and I were happy and excited and had no concerns about our pregnancy. We bore no concept of the trials many newborns can face.

Years later, during the many days and nights I spent in the NICU with Hailey, I marveled at how many of the nurses were themselves pregnant. I wondered at their strength. Every day, they see the worst of what can happen to our babies, and still they find the courage to begin and expand their own families. My husband and I had been relatively unsuspecting. But these women, they are FULLY informed. God bless them. I wish I could give them not our sad story with Hailey to put worry in their hearts, but all of our hope and joy and the excitement and love a new baby brings.

And as for this Mother's Day --- my first as a mother with a child in Heaven --- I just don't want to celebrate it. I wish it would pass without notice. You see, there are things you can know, logically, to be true. In my mind, I know I did everything for Hailey that I could. I know I left nothing on the table. I didn't leave her side for weeks on end in the hospital. I fought for her. I set all else aside for her. Truly, if I have any regrets, I know it is my guilt nitpicking and that I'm being overly hard on myself.

But in my heart, it is a different story. In my heart, no matter what my mind knows, I feel as though I failed my daughter. I know it was an unfortunate mix of a bad gene from both my husband and I that caused Hailey's terminal genetic syndrome, but somehow I feel the full weight of the blame. It was MY body that grew her for nine months. It was MY body that set the scene for the faulty genes to meet.

So yes, I KNOW I am a good mother to my son. I KNOW I was the best mother I could be to Hailey. But it is still a bridge too far for me to celebrate Mother's Day this year. I think I will likely be fine next year. But this year is too soon. Too harsh. Too much a reminder of my failings.

Thankfully, I have a wonderful friend who understands this journey I'm on and sent me a special book that was so perfectly timed in its arrival this week. It is called, "You are the Mother of all Mothers," and it tells me exactly what I need to hear. That I didn't fail Hailey. That I'm not a bad person who did anything to deserve this. I stare at the pages with the most simple of sentences to absolve me of my harshest self-criticisms, and try to own it. I'm working on it.

Tonight, I'd like to close with a quote I read on another friend's blog. It cracks my heart open every time.

"Lord, hold my child close to You,

And if You will, I plea,

That as You hold her close to You,

She remember when I held her

close to me."

-from Out of the Mouths of Babes 3/3/08

The Untethered Life of a Military Family

As most of you know, we are a military family. With this life comes both struggles and adventures, and we feel lucky to live in the United States, where the country respects its service members so highly and those of us within the community care for each other so well.

While it was hard to live far away from our families when Hailey took ill and passed away, our friends and neighbors took care of us in a way that allowed our family more freedom to worry with us, visit with Hailey, and mourn with us on their own terms when they came to visit. Our friends and neighbors viewed with clarity what we needed most, be it dinners, having our house professionally cleaned, or formalized childcare for our toddler so we could all spend more time at the hospital as Hailey's health deteriorated. We will be forever grateful.

When it eventually became time to let Hailey go, the military lifestyle presented me with one of my greatest heartaches: there was no way for me to keep our daughter with us, short of cremating her, which wasn't something I wanted to do. Because we move around every few years, no matter where I buried her, I was all but guaranteed not to be able to visit with Hailey. So we made the best decision we could, and chose to bury her in between my grandfather and aunt up in Massachusetts. We knew my husband would soon be deploying and that I'd likely go home to visit with family, and it would be my best opportunity to spend time by Hailey's side once again.

It hurt to come back to Kansas, where we currently live, and have no place to sit with Hailey. Trying to look on the bright side, I thought maybe it would force me to keep moving forward because unlike other parents who have lost a child, I couldn't go to my daughter's graveside every day, every week, or even every month. But, in a way, I've just felt...untethered.

When your child dies so young, you worry that they didn't have their chance to leave a mark on this world. Many members of our own families never even got to meet Hailey before she passed. They didn't get to see the light in her eyes or feel how gently she would snuggle into you. They didn't get to see how hard she fought back from death's door multiple times. And looking back now and seeing it all in hindsight, I marvel at the pain and discomfort she suffered through with such grace. Just to be with us for as long as she could.

Without being by her graveside, and with life moving forward here, sometimes I desperately look through all of the pictures I have of our daughter to remind myself she was really here. That we really lost a child. Our sweet, sweet baby girl. In reality, I want her with me always and look through the photos almost every night before I go to bed.

And then some days, when I FaceTime my Mom in Massachusetts, I find that she is at Hailey's graveside herself. It warms my heart to know that she and other members of my family tend to my daughter's resting place when I cannot. One day, my Mom even sent me this photo of the angel statue nestled above Hailey. It had just snowed in Boston, but you will notice how just the two leaves beneath the angel happen to be green when everything else around had turned to brown. I took that as a blessing from my sweet baby.

Little did I know that our military community here at Fort Leavenworth would still lift us up in not only our moment of illness and loss, but also in mourning and healing. I cried when my neighbor told me she had gotten the approval to plant a memorial garden for Hailey here on post, in the field across from our house. I cried when she told me the post landscaping company is donating a sitting bench and will maintain the garden for all the years to come. I cried at the local group of work-out Moms who are donating all the balloons for a memorial release at the dedication ceremony this Sunday. I cannot tell everyone how much this means to me.

My desperate need for people to KNOW my daughter led me to beg the medical staff who cared for her to attend her baptism and going home ceremony. It is why we invited our family, friends, and neighbors...really anyone who would come and bear witness to her existence, to be with us in that moment. It is why I write this blog. (It is why so many people who lose someone they love start a charity of some sort: they find healing in giving purpose to their suffering and loss.)

Thanks to our community here at Fort Leavenworth, my daughter is physically leaving her mark on this world, and not just with her tombstone. She will leave behind a beautiful place for people to rest and enjoy the tulips as they bloom each spring and signify rebirth. They will read her name on a brass plate and maybe they will spend a few moments contemplating her.

It has been four months since Hailey passed and these folks here at Fort Leavenworth are still loving us through it, and understanding what my aching Mama's heart needs even better than I do myself. This military life is hard, and I miss sitting with my daughter, but God has blessed us with the people who surround us here.

(I will be sure to post photos of the big dedication day once I have them! A bunch of folks from the hospital are even coming up for it, and I am so thankful for how much they have loved us, too.)

With love and a grateful heart.