"It's been so lonely without you here, I'm like a bird without a song" ~ Prince
I've lamented a few times about how emotional and hormonal this pregnancy has been. Is it because I'm carrying a baby girl this time? Is it due to the warmer summer days and the resultant swelling? Is it because I'm also parenting a rambunctious toddler while trying to care for myself and the little one inside me? Perhaps all of these elements play a part, but I think one of the main issues this time around is that my mom is not here to share this experience with me.
I try not to get too sorrowful and Debbie Downer on this blog, but sometimes it feels good to release some of what I've been going through. It's one of the main reasons I write -- it's my therapy. And hopefully in the process I can connect with others who may relate. So, what is giving me the most pain right now? It's not the Braxton Hicks and general discomfort that I've had for the past few days. And I'm sure it won't be the actual labor and delivery of LL. It's missing my mom.
Sure, she was very sick when I was pregnant with Q. She wasn't quite the super strong mama I had always known. But, she managed to be the major source of support for me that she always had been. That did not change due to her illness. We talked daily. She shared her mama wisdom. Or she just listened in her absolutely attentive way. She helped me prepare for his arrival, from gifting us Q's changing table to supporting our use of a doula to advising me it might be a good idea to take a week for ourselves after the baby is born. She consistently gave great advice without being pushy about it. I miss that terribly.
But when I wish that she was still here, I allow myself to fantasize about her healthy self being here. It's much too selfish of me to wish she was still here, suffering through her cancer. I wouldn't want that for her or for anyone else. I try to rejoice in the time I had with her. That she was able to at least guide me through my first pregnancy and meet her first grandchild. But sometimes it's not easy. I want to cry to the heavens above and plead with her for some help. Mom, I need you! This pregnancy business can be such a lonely one. And how ironic, I know, to be carrying another being inside of you and feel such solitude. So I dream of her in full health, playing with Q, lending me her arms, and simply understanding.
I've decided that my mom will be my focal point to get me through labor this time. I will think of her bravery in her fight against cancer. I will think of her enduring strength. I will miss her. But I also know part of her will be with me during one of the most important moments of my life. When the pain seems too much to bear, she'll be holding my hand.