As I walked up the stairs late Wednesday afternoon with tears slowly streaming down my face, I felt my anxiety rising. I heard sweet baby cries, bath water running, and a sweet daddy softly saying, “I promise it’s not that bad!”. As I rounded the corner into the nursery bathroom, I began to cry harder.
I heard the door beep which meant she was gone, and I went to the front window of our condo and watched my moms mini van drive away.
My biggest fan.
Her prolonged newborn stay was gone, and it hit me. I was William’s mommy, and he was now my full responsibility.
The bath ended and I heard Dan say, “Mommy! Come save me!”. I went around the corner, grabbed the puppy dog towel, and snuggled my sweet angel. We walked into the nursery, and the sun was slowly starting to set, and when I saw his sweet face, I began to cry harder.
I looked at my sweet husband who has been such an amazing daddy to both of my babies, and I told him if Mary Anna died then why should anyone trust me with another baby?
The moment was here. The three of us were all in the nursery, and I had longed for this moment and feeling for over two years now, yet my insecurity was so high that I could barely take it.
I see so much of Mary Anna in my sweet baby boy, and each moment is a joy, but a reminder of what we continue to miss with our angel.
You see, he is here, healthy, and whole, but when I kiss his lips, I remember kissing my baby girls lips while her heart was stopping to beat. When I rub his head, I remember the way her hair felt in my fingers. His cry sounds just like hers, and he loves to hold my finger tightly just like Mary Anna did.
This journey is long and dark, yet redemptive and sweet at the same time. My mommy was my cheerleader, and even though we won’t keep her away long, her absence that night showed me the weight of the responsibility of a child.
What a sweet gift that William is, but what a calling for the giver of life to entrust him with me. Dan and I are called to parent Mary Anna and William all the days that we are here on this earth, and that calling is big.
Each time I hear his little cry in the middle of the night, I have to fight the insecurities that rise within me. Losing Mary Anna has made me strong and weak.
Praise The Lord for my mommy, as she hugged me right before she left with tears in her eyes quietly said, “You can do this. I know it’s hard, and I miss her too, but you are a good mom.” And for my Dan who sat with me that evening and wept and rejoiced with me and told me in his own way that I could do it too.
Here’s to motherhood, the hardest but best job on the planet.