I always imagined, dreamed in fact, about what it would be like to hear my child call me mommy. Technically, she still calls me “mah-mah”, but it’s the most beautiful thing ever. We’ll be driving down the road and I’ll hear “Mah-mah?” And I’ll say, “Yes baby, I love you!” And that’s all. She doesn’t want anything else – just to hear me say “I love you.” I dream of the day when she’ll say it back. This Mommy’s Day (my first official) was bittersweet. It was the day we had planned to take those cute family pictures and say something clever on Facebook about being “the four of us.” Except that we’re still just the three of us. Our number four – our second beautiful baby – is in Heaven with Jesus. Saturday when we went to the Farmer’s Market as a family, it seemed every woman I saw had a little girl in a stroller and a baby in her belly. I was hurting. I spent a lot of the day Saturday in a funk. Then Sunday came. And I decided to make the most of it.
Back a few months ago, when we first heard the term “chemical pregnancy,” I wasn’t sure what it meant, but my doctor went on to explain that something just didn’t take. The implantation process went awry. This baby had something wrong that just made it unable to survive. But I felt it. I knew I was pregnant from the moment of implantation (or as we now know, attempted implantation). I got very dizzy. And it was the right amount of days past ovulation. By day two after implantation, I was 85% sure I was pregnant. By that Monday (day three), I was 99% sure. By Wednesday (a week after ovulation), I was 100% sure. I had weird hormonal issues. My body was in overdrive being pregnant. I had a weird food aversion to bananas, and couldn’t eat enough tomatoes. (Like literally, I ate an entire tomato with salt and pepper for my lunch more than once!) My stomach would turn over every time I changed a poopy diaper. I had a feeling it must be a boy because my hormones were so strong and so different from with Becca. We were overjoyed. Finally came the day I could take a test. (I mean, not that I hadn’t taken a million tests hoping one would show positive early… but, ya know, the official “I’m late, let’s take a test” day.) It was positive. I was over the moon. Becca and I took Cody to lunch to celebrate. We told our family and a couple of very close friends. Life was grand. Until it wasn’t. A few days later, at six weeks pregnant, I was bleeding. Constantly. A trip to the doctor told us everything we needed to know. This wasn’t right. This baby wasn’t healthy. My doctor’s words from before we had Becca – “You won’t lose a healthy baby” – stuck in my mind. It didn’t make it easier. But by the time I saw the ultrasound, I was sure he was gone. My little angel. Definitely half of mommy, half of daddy, a young life. But one that would never get the proper nutrition to grow into a beautiful little being. And then I heard the words that would get me through it all, and through all the months after when trying didn’t work, and when people who didn’t know anything about it would say “So when is Becca going to have a little brother or sister?” I heard the words that God spoke directly to my heart.
“God has given you another month with JUST Becca.”
Use it wisely. Don’t miss a moment. Cling to every smile. Every laugh. Every little sigh. Because it’s a gift. We want more children. Want them desperately. Maybe just one more, but quite possibly two. But for whatever reason, God has given us another month with just Becca. So on Mother’s Day, as I felt the pain of not entering my second trimester and telling the world about our little bundle of joy, I decided to focus on my BIG bundle of Rebecca JOY. We laughed. We played. We snuggled. We got dressed up fancy and went to church. We took pictures in our front yard. We read books and walked in her big girl tennis shoes with the pink sparkles. We wore matching shirts my mom had made for us. We shared an Oreo Blizzard from Dairy Queen (her first ice cream). We went to the park. And I thoroughly enjoyed being Mommy to ONE precious. adorable, little girl. She said “bird” for the first time, and continued to say her new word from Saturday, “ditty” (kitty). She consistently signed “more” when she wanted more bites of food. And she grew just a little more.
She is a gift from God. She has another angel looking out for her now. While I yearn for the day when other little mouth(s) will call me “mommy” or “mah-mah”, I have learned an important lesson, and I will cherish the moments I have with my beautiful girl – just us. For one day, just around the corner, she’ll be celebrating her own Mommy’s Day.