I am so blessed to celebrate my first Mother’s Day tomorrow. Though it is a happy holiday, it is a bittersweet day for me because though I am a mother, my daughter is not here.
Though my daughter is no longer with me, I am still a mother. Though I never heard her cry, I felt her kick. Though I never nursed her, I watched my belly grow as she grew. Though I never gave her a bath, dressed her, diapered her, I felt the effects of my pregnancy as she developed. Though I didn’t get to raise her, I prayed for her every day. For 39 weeks I was her safe haven. For 36 of those weeks I knew she was there. For 31 weeks I had a symptomatic pregnancy. For 24 weeks I knew that she was my daughter. For 17 weeks I felt her move. For almost 10 hours I was in labor. For almost an hour I was in surgery. For almost six months I’ve grieved her death. That part will never end. Though my daughter is in heaven instead of in my arms, I am a mother. Though my I haven’t seen her smile, roll over, sit up or crawl, she is still my daughter. Though she is not here with me, she will always be mine. No matter how and how many time I become a mother again, she will always be my first. Though I may get to see other children grow up, she will always be the big sister.
I love my Angel more and more each day. I look at her photo in our living room or on Jim’s desk, or at the photo I carry around with me each day, and I miss her terribly. Sometimes I still burst into tears from missing her. But I am more thankful for her each day, each moment, than the one before. I didn’t get nearly enough time with her, but I cherish every second I did. She will always be mine. And as of November 27, 2009 at 6:27 a.m., I am a mother, always.