I just celebrated my 3rd New Year’s without my mother. It’s weird that’s how I measure time now. It’s been so many hours, days, months, and now years. Last night I could not get my mind to shut off, and it kept replaying memories of the night my mother died. I like to refer to that night as “morbidly beautiful.” Watching her take her last breath was not pleasant, nor was there anything beautiful about that exact moment, but what happened afterwards was something I never really took the time to allow myself to truly feel until last night. I looked down at my mother’s shell knowing that she was no longer there, she was finally at peace, the beauty of the situation was the closeness of my family and how in one moment we all came together. I don’t think my cousin, Brian left my side for the remainder of that day. I received countless hugs from him, and I remember him asking me what he could do. I think I replied “This,” as he continued to hold me. The only person that wasn’t there was my brother, and at the time I felt sorry that he couldn’t be there, but now I’m grateful, because the memories he has of my mom’s last days are pleasant. She wasn’t fully coherent, she kept forgetting what she was going to say, but she still had her spirit. The worst thing I think I’ve ever heard from my mom was her apologizing for dying. That’s not something I would wish for my brother, and I have so many good memories of my mom, but that’s the memory of her that replays the most in my mind.
After the death of my mom I became a different person. I remember that night I thought I would enjoy being surrounded by friends, and I apologize to Jason and Devynn now because the entire time they were at my house all I did was sit on the couch and stare at the wall. I can’t remember if I even said anything to them. I remember feeling completely empty, and wanting to cry, but the tears would no longer come as I had been crying all day. I told my husband about when I was a child and I lost my grandmother, I had to have grief counseling because I couldn’t cope, and my husband told me to take all the time I needed, he understood, unfortunately, he lost his mother too. I remember a long time had passed since she died, almost 2 years, and my husband came to me and told me that he would support me no matter what, and that he understood I had every right to be sad, but it wasn’t healthy for me to be in the state I was in. That I had this inner child in me that needed to be let out, that he wanted his wife back. I felt horrible, not at his words, he was truly concerned for my well-being, but I honestly didn’t realize the shape I was in. I thought I was acting like myself. I remember really trying, I had to make an effort to laugh and smile, and for those of you who know me, you know that is something that normally comes very easy for me. I’m easily amused. It didn’t really hit me just how much I wear my heart on my sleeve until my previous boss who came back as the Director of the department I work for noticed this change. Of course, I believed my husband, and I can’t hide my emotions from him, he knows me better than anyone, but I thought I could hide them well from the rest of the world. Apparently, I was wrong. My previous boss came into my office, closed the door and spoke these exact words: “Kristian, I have asked you what is wrong, and you keep telling me you’re fine. You are not fine. I can see it on your face. You are not the same Kristian. You were the one to brighten everyone else’s days. I remember a time when the entire office was grumpy, and you went in and threw confetti on everyone’s desk and told us to cheer up. Where is that Kristian?” I was literally speechless. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I had no answer for her, how could I have gotten so far away from who I truly was? My best friend, Amanda messaged my husband numerous times to ask about how I was doing, because she knew, even though she was miles away in another State at the time, that I was not myself. I honestly had no idea!
The reason I am writing this is that I find myself slipping back into the dark place. After the death of my mom my desire to become a mother grew. I wanted that bond between mother and child back, and I wanted it with a child of my own. Almost all of my friends have babies, and I am overjoyed for them, I really and truly am, but I don’t see them as much as I’d like, and it’s not because I don’t want to see them, or that they don’t want to see me, it’s time. I get it, I really do, they have children who have to stay on certain schedules, and they hang out with other mom’s so that their children can play together, and in social settings they all talk about how their kids keep them up at night, and all I can think about is what I wouldn’t give to say that the reason I can’t sleep at night is because my child keeps me up rather than my recurring, demonic nightmares, or thoughts of my mothers death, or the million things I need to do around the house and at work. So I retreat back into my corner, alone, as the woman who keeps trying and failing to conceive. Again, please don’t think I’m being resentful, I truly am happy for my friends who have children, and even more grateful for the ones who don’t know the pain of not being able to conceive. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
I absolutely love the song “Let it Be” by the Beatles. I have a quote next to my desk at work that says “Let it Be,” to remind me to just breathe when things get overwhelming, it’s okay to not be okay, and sometimes the best thing I can do is walk away from a situation and just “Let it Be.” So I have recently come to terms with the fact that I may never be able to have a child of my own. That may not be in my cards, and while that’s hard to accept, I need to. I’m not saying I’m going to stop trying, or that it absolutely will not happen, I have no way of knowing, so I’m just going to “Let it Be.”
Love and life lessons,