{"id":379473,"date":"2014-05-11T20:03:00","date_gmt":"2014-05-11T20:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2014\/05\/11\/what-kind-of-mother\/"},"modified":"2014-05-11T20:03:00","modified_gmt":"2014-05-11T20:03:00","slug":"what-kind-of-mother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/2014\/05\/11\/what-kind-of-mother\/","title":{"rendered":"What Kind of Mother?"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Two a.m.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Twenty-four years ago.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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One of the most equally exciting and excruciating times of my life began: Child labor.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Some thirteen hours later, time that included sleep in spits and spurts, the timing and logging of contraction intensity and duration, a full breakfast, and a walk in the overcast, cold and drizzling day, my firstborn arrived into this world.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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His delivery didn\u2019t come quite as we\u2019d expected, with ice chips and neck massages and words of encouragement from Warren.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Unexpected complications necessitated an emergency caesarean section, and though my son would be born alive, his body would be cold when he was placed into my arms.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Three-fifty-four p.m.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

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I wept when I read the two Mother\u2019s Day cards friends had sent.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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What kind of mother has not child?<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/div>\n

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An echo that haunted me for years to come.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I\u2019d failed in the most incomprehensible way; my boy didn\u2019t even have a chance to begin his life.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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If you\u2019re a past or present bereaved parent, then you have some idea of my experience.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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If you\u2019re currently grieving, you may be asking some variation of this question right now.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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For years I lamented not being able to be my son\u2019s mother; I didn\u2019t ever feed him or change his diaper or rock him to sleep or kiss skinned knees or help him with his homework.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Of the many things a mother does, I did none.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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So how could I be considered his mother?<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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How could I stand beside women who shared photos of toothless grins and helmeted at-bats and pajama\u2019d bodies smiling at Santa\u2019s surprises?<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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These women\u2019s smiles were surely signs of success.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Motherhood<\/span><\/i>.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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A class into which I\u2019d been turned away.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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May I share something else with you?<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Once I\u2019d put some space between me and the immediate pain, when years had created a distance that took the edge off of the rawness of my heartache and I had the benefit of other\u2019s stories, a different sort of ache replaced the stabbing sorrow.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I eventually realized that I DID mother my son.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Me and my body kept him alive for eight-and-a-half months.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I<\/span><\/i> did that.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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His heart beat strong and his little body showed off his moves in the ultrasound.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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His sense of humor shone through when he kicked Daddy\u2019s hand, the timing of which couldn\u2019t have been more perfect as Warren was playfully picking on me at the time.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I did<\/i>feed him.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I sang to him.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I read him stories.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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I talked to him about hope and dreams and desire and hardship.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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We touched hands every time I stroked my aching side to encourage him to move from underneath my right rib.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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That, my friends, is the best kind of mother, one who cares and loves and longs\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

You, if you are here, whatever your story, be it the loss of a child to infertility, to miscarriage, to stillbirth or suicide or murder or accident or any freaking tragedy, you are Mother.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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For Mother means more than giving birth.<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Mother means all of those things\u2026Mother is one who nurtures in imagination and in reality\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Happy 24th<\/sup> birthday, Gavin!<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/o:p><\/span> <\/div>\n

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Beauty chose the theme and she and Big Guy are sending you and your cloud to Hawaii today!<\/span><\/div>\n
We’re heading to Buffalo for a soccer game, stop in on your way to paradise!<\/span><\/div>\n
And here’s your baby brother goofing off and living it up by catching a piggyback ride up the hill to your grave.<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/span> <\/div>\n

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No matter the sport, my living children\u2019s teammates have often referred to me as Mama Elizabeth\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Chocolate chip cookies have a way of endearing kids to you\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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As does a genuine affection and appreciation, and a love that reaches out from the kind of mother who loves and lives to encourage and care\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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Happy Mother\u2019s Day, Journeyer!<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

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May you pay homage to the Moment(s) that bring you joy, make you smile, give you some modicum of relief, or simply bring a warm and fuzzy feeling\u2026<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Yours in healing and happiness,<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/span>~AE<\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

Soon\u2026<\/span><\/span><\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Two a.m. Twenty-four years ago. One of the most equally exciting and excruciating times of my life began: Child labor. Some thirteen hours later, time that included sleep in spits and spurts, the timing and logging of contraction intensity and duration, a full breakfast, and a walk in the overcast, cold and drizzling day, my […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3519,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[316,203,87,317,14,322,63,320],"class_list":["post-379473","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-happyhappens","tag-birthday","tag-child-loss","tag-finding-happiness-in-your-day","tag-healing","tag-mothers-day","tag-parenting","tag-random-happiness"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/24th-Birthday-Cemetary-Celebration.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379473","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=379473"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/379473\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3519"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=379473"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=379473"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/staging.annahelizabeth.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=379473"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}