Mother's Day

This was a special Mother's Day. I am not sure if it counts as my first or second Mother's Day because I sort of celebrated last year when I was pregnant with Rylan. Either way, it was my first Mother's Day without Rylan. Because of that I was anticipating it would be a really hard day for me. However, I thank God the day went better than expected... The only thing that could have made it better was, of course, if Rylan was here. But, I am just so happy I got to be his mommy, no one else. For a change I tried not to focus on all the sadness from the loss but instead on all the happy things about being his mommy.

I received several cards and emails which were really touching. It meant so much that friends and family remembered that I am a mother. Joe is not always the best about remembering cards/gifts but he gave me a really thoughtful card and two books about motherhood. It was perfect and so meaningful in my eyes.

The race (Norwalk Mother's Day 10k) ended up being a great idea. It got me out of bed and accomplishing something right from the start. The "runner's high" and the sunshine (the weather was amazing) helped keep my spirits up all day. Although I didn't set any time records, I was just happy to finish the race. It might not be a big deal for someone else but to me it was a huge accomplishment and symbolic of the fact that no matter what additional challenges lie ahead in my life I will get through them (and can still remember Rylan at the same time). Joe and about 7 of our friends ended up joining me to run the race in Rylan's memory. One of those people was our friend Youn Su. She was so thoughtful and had a hat made for me which said "running for Rylan." It was so special and a constant reminder to me during the race of why I wanted to run it in the first place. Among other reasons, I wanted to do it for my baby boy who will never have the chance to do anything on this earth (although, he isn't missing much when compared to heaven!) and while I have my health there was no excuse not to! I went through 13 hours of labor and then losing my baby the next day, how bad could one 6.2 mile run be?? It was so great to have a bunch of friends there supporting us. Without a doubt that helped me complete the race. Also, Julia (the woman I used to nanny for) happened to be running in the race and her family was there to support her. As I neared the finish line I heard all these little voices shouting, "go Nicole!" and I realized it was her kids. It made my day to see them.

After the race several of us went out for a brunch buffet. The food sure tasted great knowing we'd earned it! :) We want to make it an annual tradition to do this race and then go out to brunch. So, the more the merrier next year!! The good thing is there is a 5k walk at the same location so even if we only felt up to walking one year we could do that instead.

In the early afternoon Joe took a nap and I did one of my favorite things: laying out in our backyard with a book and enjoying the sun. In the late afternoon Joe's parents came over and we had a nice dinner of Korean BBQ with them. Then we all watched Slumdog Millionaire (I am officially the last person in this country to see it!).

Thank you so much to everyone who helped me celebrate and get through Mother's Day this year.

Love you Rylan.

Just me, only me, always me

As my first Mother’s Day approaches, I wanted to write something that would express the permanence of my motherhood. Though we hope to one day have more children, Rylan will always be the one who first made me a mother. I am his only mother and I will always be his mother. Death cannot take that away from me.

Just me, only me, always me

No one else in the world can claim to be Rylan's mother.
I am the proud, proud owner of that title.

Just me, only me, always me.

I carried you with me for 9 too-brief months.
I felt your every movement, every hiccup, every jab to my ribs.

Just me, only me, always me.

Though I was saddened it would be the end of our unbroken togetherness,
I gave every last ounce of myself to labor with you and get you out.

Just me, only me, always me.

When I first heard your sweet, tiny, heavenly cry I knew I was a mother.
Your mother Rylan.

Just me, only me, always me.

When I saw you clearly for the first time I thought, "I must be in a dream."
Never had I seen such a beautiful and perfect creature in all my life!
I loved you with a new found and indescribable motherly love.

Just me, only me, always me.

Later you opened your eyes and looked at me. It felt as though our souls connected in that moment and that we’d known each other forever.
That brief, tender moment of newborn mother and newborn child will forever be the sweetest memory to me.

Just me, only me, always me.

You were mine and I could not have imagined you would soon be gone.
I held you when at last, without a struggle, you breathed your soul away.
I too breathed something of myself away in that moment. My precious boy was gone. Though your dad and many others who loved you were gathered around, I was the mother and no one else experienced losing you quite like I had to.

Just me, only me, always me.

Your birth made me a mother and I will never be the same.
Your death has only magnified my longing and affection for you my sweet, sweet baby boy. I will never stop loving you and my life will forever be enriched because I am your mother.

Just me, only me, always me.

Your loving and forever devoted mother.
Nicole

Getting Through Grief by Deborah R. Gemmill

Getting Through Grief
Deborah R. Gemmill, from Getting Through Grief, 1996, Beachcomber Press

My baby has died.

Please don't tell me you know how I feel. You don't. You can't. I hope you never do.

Don't tell me he's with God and I should be happy. How can I be happy when every time I go into his nursery all I see is an empty crib and toys that will never be played with? How can I be happy when my arms ache to hold him?

Please don't tell me God needed another angel. It's hard for me to understand why God would take away this little one who was so loved. Maybe I'll understand later. But for right now, let God find another angel.

Please, please, please don't tell me I'll have other children. Maybe I will, but my son was not a puppy that ran away. He cannot be replaced.

Maybe you could just listen when I remember out loud all the things that we did together: the walks, the early morning feedings, the first time he rolled over. Maybe you could just sit with me while I cry over all the things we'll never do together.

Please don't tell me it could be worse. How? I really don't want to hear about your grandfather's death. It's not the same. Don't think my pain will be eased by comparison. Of course I'm glad that he didn't suffer, but I'd be a lot happier if he hadn't died at all.

I know it must be hard for you, but would you mind looking at his picture just one more time?We don't have many of him, and I'm just a little bit afraid that I may forget what he looked like. He wasn't here that long, you know.

Could you please just listen? Don't tell me I'll get over it. There is no "over it," only through it. Maybe you could just be with me while I take my first steps through it.

Please don't tell me I should be glad he was just a baby, or that at least I didn't get to know him. I knew him. I knew him before I ever saw him. He is a part of me. And now he is gone. I haven't just lost a seven-month-old baby. I have lost a part of myself.

I know you mean well, but please don't expect me to tell you how to help me. I'd tell you if I knew. But right now I can hardly put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe if you looked around, you could find some things to do, like taking my daughter for a walk, or doing the dishes, or making some coffee.

Please don't try to remove my pain or distract me from it. I have to feel this way now. Maybe you could just listen.

Author Unknown

The mention of my child's name may bring tears to my eyes, but it never fails to bring music to my ears. If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of his name. It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul. —Unknown