It has been 354 days since my last blog
post. Do you know how many things can happen in a year minus 11
days? I'll tell you. Life and death and everything in between.
Quite literally.
The last time I blogged, I was on a
plane headed from coast to coast. I was headed home after telling my
family that I was having a baby. I had known for two weeks before I
left, but couldn't bring myself to break that kind of news over the
phone. So I waited. And I waited. And I almost burst at the seams.
But I made it. People cried. Happy tears.
And if I had known what I know now, I
would have cried happy tears (and sad tears) as I hugged my dad
goodbye. Instead, we opted for quick hug and a “see you later.”
I wish I had hugged a few seconds longer, breathed in his smell
(cigarettes and aftershave) a bit deeper, appreciated everything just
a little more.
July 22. The worst day of my life.
There are not enough words in the world. That's really all I have to
say about it. Less than 12 hours later and I'm headed again, coast
to coast. After a day of crying and sobbing and whatever else people
do when they begin to grieve, I spent the evening on an airplane with
my cousin. And in the light of awful and unbelievable tragedy, we
laughed. We laughed a lot. We laughed until people thought we were
drunk. But instead, we laughed because we didn't know what else to
do. But having a friend to sit next to you and laugh with you and
understand your silent pain – it's beautiful. And because we were
sitting in an exit row, I had to hide my baby bump every time the
flight attendant walked by. Having a friend to laugh at that, to
keep your mind busy, to share your insanity – it's beautiful,
really.
And an incredible thing happened on
that plane ride – a few incredible things, in fact. We hit
turbulence, worse than I'd ever felt before. And out the window, we
watched a lightning storm below us – a fascinating view, with a
hint of fear etched in the back of my mind. And then it happened. I
felt a feeling, like someone was tickling me from the inside. And I
realized it was my sweet baby – the first movement of my girl (only
48 hours earlier, we had learned it was a girl). A little eerie,
looking back on the whole situation. When one life ends, another
begins – a dark and magical and defining moment.
I'm not sure I can relive the details
of the funeral, nor do I want to. I think about it enough – almost
every time I close my eyes. Skip ahead four months. Childbirth...
there are, again, no words.
Motherhood is wonderful. And hard. So
hard. It's not always snuggles and rainbows and whatever else people
make motherhood out to be. Don't get me wrong. There's a lot of
snuggles. A LOT. But it's hard, and don't let anyone tell you
otherwise. Because they're lying. Tears and laughter (from baby and
mother alike) have packed our past four months, but it has been an
incredible ride.
Today, something amazing happened.
Maybe it won't be amazing to you, but it was amazing to me. My sweet
babe rolled over, all by herself. And you know what I was doing? I
was on the computer, checking my email. Seriously. Nothing says
awful mother like deleting spam while my kid is achieving a
milestone. And I'm pretty sure I'll never forget that moment, when I
walked in to her on her belly (both arms out and all – a big step
for a little baby). I almost cried (sad tears, for being busy with
something so meaningless) when I should have been sitting there,
cheering her on with happy tears.
But that's what motherhood is, I've
learned. And that's what life is, really. Time passing too quickly.
Blinking and missing the most important things. Moving too fast,
with such insignificance, that we miss the big things. Like rolling
over, or the last hug.
My sweet girl. In her daddy's Air Force hat and her grandpa's Air Force dog tags.
Life and death and beauty.
