This first post is a little long.
If you have read my “About Me” page you know that in the last two years or so both my Mom and Grandma have died. Often when we loose a loved one we will search for reminders of them or evidence that they are still in our lives. I know this was the case for me. My Mom loved hummingbirds and calla lilies. She would get excited and say, “Oh! Look at the hummingbird!” Seeing either of these makes me think of my Mom and I feel a connection with her. It makes her physical absence from our life somewhat tolerable, even that phrase “somewhat tolerable” doesn’t sit well with me but I will use it. After her death we packed up her house and I sorted through her things…desperate to find something that she wrote or set aside specifically for me. As time passed I stopped my search. Then, when I was six months pregnant and at the height of a very emotional holiday season, I found pregnancy journals that my Mom wrote during both of her pregnancies. She had never mentioned the journals, I didn’t know they existed and definitely didn’t know to be looking for them. Seeing her thoughts, concerns and hopes for us written in her perfect cursive was very intimate. Reading them brought me so much comfort during such a special and emotional time in my life.
By the time I delivered our son I had spent two nights in the hospital getting very little rest. On the Labor and Delivery floor I could hear families there cheering on whichever loved one might be giving birth to the newest addition. While walking the halls in my gown we saw visitors beaming with pride as they came and left the room they visited. I could imagine mothers in the room with the with their daughter. Only once did I let myself feel sad about the fact that I did not have any family other than my husband in the hospital with me. Even if I fought off being sad about it, this fact cast a shadow the entire experience.
Once we had been moved to our recovery room we were greeted by an experienced nurse who was supportive and an obviously strong advocate for her patients. Her name was Marianne and had a daughter who had the same birth month and day as me. My mother’s name was Mary Ann and she was a great nurse who was a strong advocate for her patients. Once Marianne left the room, my husband and I talked about our belief that this was more than a simple coincidence. We both were a little teary and in silence looked out the window. It was overcast outside and had been raining all day. The ground was soaked and raindrops were running down the window. My husband said that they were Mom and Grandma’s tears. That they were there with us.
After three nights in the hospital we were ready to go home. We went home as soon as we were given the option. So there we were, the three of us, the first night at home with baby boy. And we began our new life. All three of us were tired. My husband and I had dinner and we made our first attempt to go to bed. We were up and down with the baby all night. My milk had not come in and I was not sure if he was getting anything at all when he nursed. We swaddled him and walked with him. We spoke to him and rocked him. We were trying to work through our fatigue and exasperation. Finally, in the early hours of the morning I was walking with him. I was staring at his beautiful face his clear blue eyes were wide open and he was puckering then relaxing his perfect, pink lips. I was in love and felt insanely inadequate and helpless. Then without recognizing it I began humming a song. A song that I pulled out from somewhere deep in my memory. It was “You Are My Sunshine.”
A week or so went by and my Uncle sent out an email about my recently deceased Grandma with some paperwork attached. The attachment was some memoir type pages written by my Grandma for her grandchildren. On the pages she wrote things about herself like what she wanted to be when she grew up and what her favorite song was. She wrote that her favorite song was “You Are My Sunshine.” I stared at the page – I couldn’t believe it. The song that I had forgotten until that first night home was her favorite. That song continues to be my go to song to soothe him (and me :)).
So there without searching for them were several examples of how my Mom and Grandma were there with me during an amazing and scary time in my life. They could not hold my hand or hold my son, but they found a way to weave themselves into this experience. To wrap themselves around our family. I see my Mom in our baby boy, in his sparkling eyes and round head. I hear my Grandma’s voice saying, “Every baby is precious,” as she did during each conversation we had after I became pregnant. I will continue to cherish memories of my Mom and Grandma. I welcome the reminders that make their presence evident in our lives. Calla lilies will forever be my favorite flower. And when we are all out in the pool and a hummingbird flutters over us, I know it is my Mom checking in. I will smile and say, “Oh! Look at the hummingbird!”