I hope everyone had a nice day, whatever the day meant to you. I never before realized how difficult Mother's Day is for so many people, so many women. To have healthy, happy children AND a happy healthy relationship with your own mother seems to be almost impossible.
I have both. And yet, I don't. I don't have my Jack.
I was honestly blindsided by how hard this day was, this whole weekend really. I didn't dread it. I thought, my first real Mother's Day. With my girls. It will be nice.
This has been the hardest few days for me since Jack died. I cried, a lot. I feel raw and open and tired. Every single cell in me misses him. Every piece of me hurts. I started crying early this morning in a way I don't think I ever have, and thought I might not be able to stop, though eventually I did.
I don't know exactly why all of a sudden it is so hard again. I think for the first time I really feel like, I am a mom. I am Jack's mother. And I am not with him, I can't take care of him, I couldn't ever really take care of him, from the moment he was born. And no one in my real life, not even my husband who I know loves and misses Jack just as much as i do, can really understand that. What it feels like.
Every second of the last few days I have thought about Jack. He has been with me, I know. It started Friday morning.
Friday was a rainy, grey, terrible day. The phone rang pretty early in the morning and it was a very nice woman from some kind of Child Services office who wanted to follow up on how my triplets were. She said, let's start with Baby Boy C, I don't even have his name. Could you tell me his name and how he's doing?
Sure. His name is Jack, Jackson actually. And he died.
But I still cannot get that sentence out without crying, which I did, and the poor woman on the phone immediately started crying also, and we ended up talking and crying for awhile. She apologized over and over, and she told me if I need help with anything to call her. She told me about a program where the State will pay for Jack's medical bills if they total 10% of our income. I told her the only way that will happen is if we end up having to pay for his helicopter flight which we got a bill for months ago, but I thought it was all straightened out.
After I hung up, the girls went down for their morning nap and I stood in the shower and cried. I thought of our song, on this rainy day...
when the rain is falling down,
and my heart is hurting,
you will always be around,
this I know for certain.
I said Jack, please, let me know you're around, send me a sign, something, anything, please.
Not an hour later the doorbell rang, and it was a certified letter. Containing a bill for over $9,000 for Jack's helicopter ride to CHoP.
I said Jack, if this is your idea of a joke, you're not funny.
But as I thought about it I realized the bill wasn't Jack's sign... the phone call was. That kind woman who called an hour before and told me, if you need help, I am here. That was Jack. And the phone call came before the certified letter, so I knew already, the minute I opened it, don't panic. It will be okay.
I read something so beautiful on another blog, a brilliant blog by a woman who writes in a way I can only dream about. After her son died, a twin, she wrote that now his soul was back with her. And everything she did, she did with him, everything she saw, she saw for him, everywhere she went, she took him with her. That is exactly how I feel. Jack is back in me, back where he started. And he's in his Dad too, and his sisters maybe most of all. Everything the girls do, every first they have, Jack has with them. Every time I kiss them, hug them, comfort them, I do it for Jack too. That is the closest I can get to him. That is the best thing I can do for him. Live life, see everything, feel everything. Be happy. And love my girls.
The loving my girls part is easy. Happy 7 months my babies, all three of my babies. I love being your mom.