Yesterday I fell apart. Trying to keep Easter a joyful day, I suppressed all of my emotions missing her. They came spilling from me intermittently on Monday. Thankfully I have good friends who listen; just listen. A head nod; an acknowledgement that this is hard and awful but you're fighting for you and your family; all so supportive. I am so thankful that even in mini crises, I have support.
Today, I arrived to work early.
Last April, I could barely get out of bed if I even went to sleep the night before.
Today I stood in front of a mirror and applied my makeup.
Last April, I barely combed my hair twice in one week, much less put makeup on my face.
Today, I felt just a little victory in the progress of my life: as a wife, as a mother, as a woman.
I know I am not the only woman, the only mother, to feel like life just shouldn't go on. I know I am not the only mother to have these hopeless experiences. I know I am not the only mother who still cries herself to sleep at night missing the warmth of her child's arms around her neck, or a little rub of her child's nose to hers, or hearing that sweet, precious voice in her ears. Those women, those mothers, I love with as much intensity as I miss my child. Because they miss theirs as well. And I know what that feels like.
Today, I am claiming a little victory for mothers of broken hearts, with their missing piece in heaven. We will get out of bed and make our child proud of our strength and endurance to live the life we must with some hope and joy.
