If you could only see my draft list for posts. I’ve started so many posts about you. I started a Mothers’ Day post that I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t pull the words together and it just wasn’t done. I couldn’t get it to a place I was happy in sharing it. Maybe next year. I have posts before that and after and they are never enough. Never good enough. There’s so much to say but nothing that seems enough at the same time.
Let’s just say I’ve really been missing you even more since finding out about this baby, especially more the week when we finally announced our last baby will be arriving the end of the year. You would have been in your prime and glory. You were always so impatient waiting for me to give you the ok to tell all your friends the news and post it to FB. It feels really weird doing all this again with out you. You were the biggest cheerleader and supporter through it all.
I struggle with not having you to share it with me. Your excitement and happiness was contagious. It’s just sad for me to be going through this without you being here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy and very excited for this baby but there’s something to be said for the bond between mothers and daughters and the common experience we shared of carrying babies. And I’m really missing it this time. I feel so alone, but I’m not but there is a big part missing here on Earth.
I think all the feelings are growing bigger because soon I’ll be making the trek back to the Maritimes. My first trip back since we said goodbye. I don’t have a home there any more and I don’t know how it’s going to be being back there knowing we aren’t going back to you. I’m just going to be a visitor now. A displaced bluenoser. It’s going to be hard. I’m not sure people understand my apprehension about going back and I can’t fully explain it the way I want, but it’s hard. It will be hard. I will be struggling.
The boys have found the Thomas the Tank Engine Book you recorded for them again the other day. It always makes my heart stop for a minute when I come out of the bedroom, am doing dishes, or am sitting on the floor and from the other side of the couch I hear your voice randomly start talking because the boys are flipping through the pages. For a brief minute I forget and it all seems like it’s a distant dream but it’s not. And it sucks.
Eli knows it’s your voice and tells whoever is around that it’s his Granny and she made this book for him. He usually follows it up with “Granny is Mom’s Mom and she died. That’s why Dad has to share his Mom with my Mom.” It breaks my heart to hear the words over and over but he is so sincere and proud when he tells people that you can’t help but smile. He’s got a big heart and I dread the day he has to feel this. I hope he has a partner who will hold him up and get him through like I do.