This is only my 3rd Mothers' Day as a mom with kids, but I have been celebrating Mothers' Day for much longer than that.  

It began with the years my siblings and I would wake up early to make my mom breakfast in bed.  She would eat the soggy eggs and watery orange juice while opening homemade presents we made at school.  We were so excited to show her how much we loved her and cared for her. 
As I got older, Mothers' Day became a day when I would ponder my future role as a mother.  It was something I wanted desperately.  This idea became even more defining once I was married and we started talking about our future family.  Having my other half share my desire for children made me want to be a mother even more.  Yes...Mothers' Day was special then, as well. Then, my first year with little Logan was wonderful.  I was finally a Mother.  I thought I had reached my full understanding of what Mothers' Day was going to mean to me. 

Then...we have this year.  Now, I am a mother who has lost a child.  Suddenly, I find myself pondering this divine role of motherhood and what it means to all women in the world. My eyes have been opened to the plethora of situations that come with the role "motherhood":

• Women who have one or more children
• Women who have lost one (or more) children
• Women who have had miscarriages or stillborns
• Women who are empty nesters
• Women who struggle with infertility
• Women who are raising their grandkids
• Women who see their children making poor choices
• Women who have children with special needs
• Women who have children with chronic health issues
• Etc, Etc, Etc

As I went through this list in my head, I made a realization: Motherhood brings the greatest joy and also some of the most difficult pain in all of life.   Why, I wondered, do the pains that come with motherhood hurt so darn bad?  Why does losing a child hurt forever?  Why does it hurt so bad when you want children and can't get pregnant?  Why does the pain of losing a pregnancy have to be so consuming? 

I found the answer when I was reading a talk by the wonderful Sheri Dew.  She was one of the leaders of the women's organization of the LDS church and was never married or had any children.  In one of her talks to the women of the church, she made this statement: 

Dear Joshua-
Happy 5 months birthday.  5 months...wow...this time, it seems like it has been an eternity since that night you were born. Truly, it has to have been longer than that. 


I can't help but wonder what you would be doing right now if you were still here...and what our family would be doing.  I wonder if you would still have really chubby cheeks or if you would be thinning out a little. I wonder how much you would be taking at each feeding and maybe you would be close to having your feeding tube taken out...but probably not. :)  I wonder if you would be having good days that you didn't need much oxygen.  I wonder if you would be sleeping longer at night or if you would still be waking up every few hours.  

But really, it is getting harder for me to wonder what you would be doing developmentally.  You were so special and definitely did things at your own pace.  I have no idea what you would be doing.  We may still be working on helping you hold up your head.  We probably would still be working on your swallowing. (most likely, you probably wouldn't have even passed your swallow study, mister slow poke!) You just liked to take your time...
Joshua, things are getting a little better for me...but still hard at times.  As the time goes on, I am noticing that my memories are starting to fade, and that makes me so sad.  I cling to the ones that are still there and pull out your pictures all the time, hoping to rekindle those memories.  I am grateful I have your pictures, your clothes, your blankets, and this blog so I can remember you more clearly.

However, the one thing that still has never decreased is how much I feel your presence.  I know you are with our family, Joshua, and I know you are doing great things.  I wonder how the time feels to you.  Does it feel like an eternity since you laid in my arms or does it seem like just seconds with the eternal perspective you surely have? Either way, I hope you will keep your spirit close to me.  I love knowing you are near.  I need that. 

Have you ever dealt with cracked knuckles, hands, or feet?  You know, really dry spots that suddenly crack and bleed?  Well, I suffer from a skin condition called psoriasis and if I am not diligent in keeping lotion on multiple times a day (which am very poor at), I most likely will have a crack on my hands.  If you have never had this, I can tell you from experience that these cracks are extremely difficult to heal.  They have to be moisturized consistently for many days and then it can takes multiple days after that for the wound to heal up. 

Probably one of the most annoying parts of these cracks is that they mostly happen in places that they can get bumped.  Why does this matter?  Because they can be very close to being totally healed, you knock it against the wall, and it pops open again.  Suddenly, you are starting the entire process all over again to get it healed. 


I am discovering that healing the wounds of a broken heart work in a very similar fashion.  When Joshua passed away, my heart was cracked wide open and I started the slow, continuous process of trying to close up that wound.  Over the past 2 months, I have seen signs that the process is slowly working.  The time between the sad or hard days are getting farther and farther apart.  Then, I have experiences like last night that remind me just how easy it is for that wound to be knocked wide open.

I went to a church meeting to listen to some of the leaders of our local congregation.  Overall, the meeting was extremely uplifting and wonderful.  However, there was one speaker that shared his experience of his 5th child being born with a congenital heart defect.  He specifically talked about the time the child spent in the hospital and how difficult it was to balance the time with his other 4 children.  All the feelings of guilt, stress and being torn between the hospital and Logan came rushing back.  But it didn't end there.  He continued to share the experience of a family friend loosing their little toddler in a horrible accident.  The part of her story that hurt the most was when she talked about not being able to get the image of her lifeless son out of her mind.  It hit just too close to home with my experience and I lost it.

So, there I was, in a church filled to capacity with people and I had my breakdown.  The tears started to flood and my body started to shake.  Fortunately, I was able to keep it pretty quiet, so I don't think I was disturbing too many people trying to listen.  But, I tried very hard to get my emotions in check quickly and it was just not going to happen.  It took a good 20 minutes to stop the tears and even longer to stop shaking.  I contemplated leaving the room, but I thought that would bring more attention to me, so I just stayed in my seat. 

Once I was done crying, I thought to myself, "Wow...I was not ready for that," and I really wasn't.  Heck, I didn't even have a tissue!  I am realizing more and more the fragility of a broken heart and just how easy it is for the wounds to open up.  It is a wound that requires lots of tender love and care and even then, it can open unexpectedly.  I guess I just need to learn to expect the unexpected, although, I just don't know if I will ever be able to expect it.  I need to start carrying around some tissue and hopefully next time I will be able to handle it with a little more grace. 

According to the definition on google, a reality check is "an occasion on which one is reminded of the state of things in the real world". It seems funny to me that reality checks would happen to me, even almost 2 months after Joshua's passing, but they do and a big one happened to me today. I've decided I don't really like them very much. 


We were blessed to be able to use a government program to help us out while Joshua was with us.  They provided the breast pump for free and provided us with some basic necessity for food as well.  We were so grateful for the extra help during the difficult time.  Today, I had an appointment with them to reevaluate our status.  Well, as I was getting the paper work together for said appointment, I realized something...we probably no longer qualify.

Why, you ask, would this be a hard realization?  I promise, it was not because I was disappointed we wouldn't have the benefits anymore.  Honestly, we really don't need them now.  However, the program determines eligibility based on the number of people in the family and how much you make.  The more people you have, the more you are able to make and still qualify.  Well, we are no longer a family of 4, but a family of 3. This make it so we no longer qualify for the program.

Fortunately, I figured this out before I went to the appointment...honestly, I don't think I could have handled that realization very well in public.  But, I did have to make the very awkward phone call.  "Hi, this is really awkward, but when we started the program, we were a family of 4.  My little baby actually passed away and we are only a family of 3 now."  Yeah...awkward...for both me and the poor lady on the other end of the line.  I was really grateful with how calm and collected she stayed.  It helped me be able to hold back my tears until I hung up the phone.  

Now, I know Joshua will always be a part of our family, but it really hurt to have that reminder of him being gone. No one should go from being a family of 4 to a family of 3...it just shouldn't go that direction. Also, it is hard to think that according to the world, I only have 1 child.  Really, I will always count Joshua, but the government and society will always be missing one.  It was just another reality check...a reminder of how it is in the real world...my new normal.

This week, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend my husband's sweet cousin's baby shower.  I am so excited for them!  This is their first baby and I know they are going to be wonderful parents.  I had to go and make sure they knew how thrilled I was for them! I was, however, very nervous about going as well.  This was the first time I would be surrounded by baby things...and everyone would be talking about babies.  I knew it would be hard, so I braced myself for what might be a difficult evening.

Needless to say, I was very happy that I made it through the evening pretty well.  I was able to laugh, make good conversation, and even answer all the "how are you doing" questions.  All in all, I was pretty happy.

I did have a few moments that were a little difficult.  One of the main one was at the very beginning of the night.  I was able to go with my two sister in laws, who both had children last year.  The babies are a few months older than Joshua was and I have never had a problem being around them...it has been the really little babies that have been harder to be around.  However, this was the first time I saw these kids together...the group of cousins that Joshua would have been growing up with.  I realized last night that they would be a constant reminder of Joshua not being here.  I will watch them grow up and realize where Joshua would be in his life if he were still here.  Man...I don't know why I never thought of that.  As I walked in behind my two sister in laws carrying their baby seats, I was very aware of mine not being there...knowing there should be. It was a reminder of my arms being empty.

However, when I was talking with my mom about it later (and getting a good cry in), she made a comment that I have thought a lot about.  She said that  that every bit of time that passes in this life gets me closer to the moment I will see Joshua again.  What a wonderful way to think about it.  There is nothing I can do about not having him with me now, but I can look forward to the time that I will see him again.  I can watch those precious cousins and use that as a gauge for how much time has passed and how we are getting closer and closer to that blessed day when I will hold him again.

This experience was just another example of my new normal...the normal that includes these reminders of my Joshua not being here.  But, there will always be an underlying tone of peace and hope...knowing we are getting closer and closer to seeing him again.

If you ever talk to a mom that has lost a child, you may have heard them talk about the constant ache in their chest/heart.  I have noticed this more and more as I try to get back to some sort of normal life.  Yesterday, that ache was especially noticeable.


Throughout the day, I would find myself stopping in the middle of a task and ask myself, "Why do I feel like I have a little heartburn," and milliseconds later, I would remember Joshua and realize it is my heart aching for him.  It really does feel like a weird form of heart burn.  Or, I guess it is more like that feeling you have right before you start to cry, but it is constant and I am literally having to learn to live my life with it.

I have heard other "angel moms" say that this ache does get a little less intrusive, but it never really goes away.  Even then, apparently it will come out of no where and just take your breath away.  I have those moments a lot right.  One day, Logan found a piece of medical tape that had somehow gotten in the couch.  I had to recover for a minute as that ache basically punched me in the stomach from seeing that reminder of little Joshua.  Or, when I had to give Logan some Tylenol and I pulled out the medicine syringe.  I couldn't help but think about all the medications we had to give Joshua and the punch in the stomach happens again. It really does happen when I least expect it and it usually takes me a few seconds to recover.

There are other days that my whole body just feels heavy.  It is like the ache in my heart is radiating to the limbs of my body and everything feels harder to move. These are the days I find myself praying a LOT.  If I think too much or dwell too much on missing Joshua, the day can go downhill fast. These are the days I take extra time to study my scriptures and learn more about the spirit world and raising children in the millennium.  These gospel truths are what keep me hopeful and from falling into darkness.  These are also the days that Heavenly Father testifies these truths so strongly.

I don't know if I see much change with the ache from day to day yet.  However, if I compare how it was a week ago, I can tell it is getting a little better...or, at least, I am getting better at living with it.