May is Not My Month

May is the hardest month of the year for me. Other months are hard too, for various reasons, but May is the one I’d prefer to skip over each year. I dread it as it approaches and I am so thankful each year that I survive it.

Mother’s Day and the anniversary of my Addy Grace running ahead to heaven both happen in May. The Sunday before Mother’s Day is Bereaved Mother’s Day too. The month of May just piles on the reminders that my baby girl isn’t here and adds to the heart ache.

Mother’s Day is one of the hardest times of the year since she left. This will be the third without her in my arms. I try not to focus on what I don’t have and be grateful for my son, but there’s no replacing a child. No matter how many children we raise I will always miss my baby girl, the one who first made me a mom. She introduced me to the joy and struggles of being a mom. She taught me the importance of slowing down and appreciating every moment with the ones I love. I don’t know what kind of mom I would be now without her showing me the ropes and throwing lots of curve balls my way.

THE hardest day for me is May 21st. The anniversary of when I rocked my baby to sleep as she awoke in heaven. I try to stay busy doing things in memory of her so that I can keep going. Because all I want to do on that day is curl up in bed and watch her favorite movie (Finding Dory), or her favorite show (Maya the Bee) and pretend she’s still here with me. Instead, I force myself out of bed and keep living. God isn’t finished with me yet and staying in bed all day isn’t going to make me feel any better.

May 21st brings back so many vivid pictures of her last night and morning in the hospital. Doctors and nurses swarming in and pumping her full of fluids, doing CPR to bring her back, falling on the hospital floor crying out for my baby to be saved, then sitting in a small room with my husband and close family as I realized God was healing my baby. It just wasn’t the way I wanted Him to. She had already been put under for intubation when I came back by her bedside to rock her to sleep one last time. I don’t know if she could hear me but all I could tell her was how sorry mommy was that she tried to “fix” her when she was perfect the way God made her. Every surgery was done to help improve her quality of life and give her the best chance at life. But, that didn’t matter anymore in that moment. In that moment I felt as if I failed my baby miserably and made the wrong choice. In that moment I wanted to go back to when we were at home playing and laughing. In that moment I felt as if God left me and no longer cared what happened to me or my baby. In that moment all I felt was pain and loneliness. Looking back now I see it differently than how I did in the moment. Looking back at that moment while I rocked my baby girl for the last time I now see God beside me, weeping with me. In my mind I can see Him holding me close telling me He knows it hurts and always will while I’m here on earth, but not to forget where she is and that when it’s my time to come home I will get to hold her again. He’s reminding me that He is always right beside me to pick me back up when I fall and that even though time won’t heal this pain, I will start to remember the good memories with her more than the painful ones.

While I have lots of good memories with my baby girl that I focus on, I still cry more in the month of May. I cry because it still hurts and I still miss her deeply. I also cry because even though it hurts now I know how this all ends. I will continue to do more of what she taught me, especially in the month of May, and enjoy all the time I can with those I love. Each year since she died I take a break from social media for the month. Partly so I won’t see the memories pop up of my posts leading up to and after her death. But the main reason, this year, is to refocus on what is important and not waste hours a day watching others live. If you’re curious what we’re up to, want to share with me what you’re up to, or want to get together once we’re free from this COVID-19 mess, you can text or message me. I’ll be out there trying to live my life to the fullest in memory of my Addy Grace.

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