Defining Motherhood: a guest post by Amy

I am excited to introduce Amy as the first guest blogger in a week of posts to celebrate Mother's Day.  She is so optimistic in her writing and just about the best blog commenter I have ever encountered.  I hope that one day we can hang out because she is definitely a woman who embraces life.  That, and I could talk with an English accent all day and she would think that I am the coolest.  I am so glad that she is willing to share her thoughts on her recent loss of her baby girl....it certainly puts my role as a mother in perspective.

 

I have never changed my baby’s diaper.

I have never wiped away her tears.

I have never yelled at her for not cleaning her room.

I have never relied heavily on Baby Einstein dvds to keep her occupied so I can take five measly minutes to get dressed.

I’ve never spent a sleepless night trying to get her to go to sleep.

I’ve never even heard her cry.

Yet, I am a Mother.

I won’t see her learn to walk.

I won’t record her first words.

I won’t go shopping for her Easter dress.

I won’t ever watch her like a hawk around big crowds or swimming pools.

But I am a Mother.

Ella is my first long-awaited baby. She only lived for two hours after she was born. After all the doctor’s appointments, ultrasounds, and hospital visits, after all the fasting and the many tearful prayers, the miracles I’d been hoping for did not happen. I had to let my baby go.

Yet, with nothing to show for it but stretch marks and a c-section scar, I am still a Mother.

Everything that is beautiful makes me think of her.

When I hear a song that stirs my heart, I see her face.

And when I see a perfect sunset, a perfect flower, or the perfect morning sunshine, I remember my perfect little girl.

She’s not with me now, but one day she will be. Then, my miracle will happen.

Most mothers will never know the pain of losing their child. Most don’t want to even imagine it.

So don’t.

Don’t think about what you would do if you had to plan a funeral. Think about them here and now. Don’t think about what you’ll do when they’re just a little older. Don’t look ahead to when they’re “finally” potty-trained, independent, able to drive, or out of the house.
Just love them and show it. Mean it. Every single day of their lives.

Because you know what, Mom? They are your miracle.