As of today, April 12, I have been a member of an exclusive club (that I wouldn't wish on anyone) of mothers who have lost babies. April 12, 2001, I had my first miscarriage.
Now, after six years, Of course I remember how heartbroken I was and I will never, ever forget the horror of the next 2.5 years, trying so desperately to get pregnant again...but this post isn't a pity party. Really.
What I was wondering this morning is this: Am I really a different kind of mother because of what we went through to have Ainslie?
I've definitely been impacted forever by those years, but really, do I parent differently?
Yes and No.
I think I am more paranoid about safety. I think I tear up more easily when she says and does certain things. I think I see everyday miracles shining through her on a more frequent basis.
On the other hand...
I think I would still have her in all kinds of activities--that is just the way I am. I think I would still be a fiend about early reading skills. I think I would still hold the same basic philosophies about potty training, spanking, foods, etc.
But.
There is that certain, thing, that je ne sais quoi, that PAL sistas know. It's a fierceness with which I love her that is different. I believe that most mothers love their children more fiercely than anyone else ever will, but this is different. In a way, she is my prize, my wonder, my hard-won little bundle of stars that I had to fight tooth and nail for, and that creates its own category of motherly love.
I still think about the what-if. What if I had a five-year old now? Would I still have my monkey? There is no answer to that question, of course. I do know this--if I didn't have this young person in my life; this thinking, reasoning, climbing, jumping person who comes up with things that astound me, frustrate me, crack me up and make me cry with joy, I would not be who I am--not even close.
Then, of course, there are the wonderful friends I have made through the journey of grief, hope, frustration and joy who again, have helped mold me in so many facets of my life. Thank you, ladies.
So, six years later, I miss that first child, but I am profoundly grateful.
About Me
- Carla
- My name is Carla. I'm 30-something and left a high-paying job in a profession I really like to stay home with my toddler daughter and do some contract work on the side. My daughter is my joy. She was hard-won, after 3+ years of loss and infertility, and she is more wonderful than I knew what to hope for. That doesn't mean there aren't moments when I'd like to be at a desk sipping a latte and counting the additional discretionary income. This blog will have many gushes of mommy-love, peppered with political rants, Deep Thoughts, and various ramblings.
3 comments:
Wow... all that you said is true, true, true. I know for me, my loss was impetus to change so much about my priorities, about what was truly important. Not to mention the way losing Jamie and infertility and everything that happened on the way to being a parent brought me into a wider world of empathy. Not to mention the two beautiful babies who call me Momma, who I am blessed to know... and who I KNOW I wouldn't know except that Jamie isn't with us here on earth.
On the other side, I do feel our family is incomplete, partly because she isn't here with us. Learning to live with that.
Remembering you sweet first Angel baby, Carla. And hugs...
Remembering your angel with you, Carla.
What a beautiful post. A tribute to your Angel, to Ainslie, to Motherhood.
I *DO* think that motherhood is different for us. I think we have a special bond ~ a fierceness to our love.
((((thinking of you))))
I agree 100% with your post. After 3 years of "work" to get our precious baby~I think that I am a completely different mother from those that have not gone through what we have been through. It is something only those of us who have experienced this kind of situation can truly understand. I will never understand or stop asking "why us" but i thank God every day for my precious child.
Will have to get together some time and talk about all of this. It amazes me how much stuff that we have in common. No wonder or little girls are the best of friends.
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