My first was with Luke in my belly. Naive, and waiting for the rest of our lives to happen.
The second, I'd yet to experience a Mother's Day with my own child. Luke was dead. I was bitter, and I was pregnant. Again.
The third, last year, was the first Mother's Day WITH my child. She was 5 months old, but so very alive, thank God.
I'm still trying to figure out how to be a mom to both of our children. I don't think I'll ever have it all figured out. Grief and happiness are still hard to reconcile.
I have mostly good, amazing days. And I'm so so glad about that. But I think that's what makes me sad, sometimes. Sometimes I still feel guilty for not grieving and missing Luke every minute of every day. Granted, I do. But it's not the same as it used to be. It used to be so thick, my grief. Now...I just think about him, and I still find it so hard to believe all of it really happened to us.
He's stil gone.
I'm still here.
Our life has moved so far forward, and I'm not sure how it happened, but it did.
But the depths to which I still miss him are incredible. It's not fucking fair that there are parents on this earth who have outlived their children. It never will be. And yet there are more and more of us walking in these shoes every day.
It's so not fair that I never got to see Luke grow up. But I thank god every day that I can catch a glimpse of what it would've been like watching Lena.
For those of you hurting today, just know that you're not alone. Life, loss, and grief go hand in hand. For some of us, not in the order it should go in. But there can always be hope, and maybe even healing in the love we show one another.
I'll never be fixed. But I don't want to be, because that would mean that Luke didn't mean as much as he did. And still does.
He'll always be my son. And I'll always be his mama.