Happy Birthday, Mom. I can't believe it's been almost 4 years since I last saw you, hugged you, talked to you. Trust me, that void is not lost on me. We used to talk daily. Every day on my way home from work, we'd spend a half hour chatting. My god I miss that. I think that's when it hits me most that you're gone, in the car. I've spent the last 2 days sobbing every time I drive to and from work or head out for lunch.
These past few years have flown by. That first year was the hardest. It was just so raw. I cried daily. I still think about you all the time, but I laugh and smile too. The tears aren't as frequent. At least until I get to days like this.
There's so much that I've wanted to tell you. The second year after I lost you Trevor finally proposed. You wanted that sooooo badly and I'm so glad that you loved him as much as I do. Know that he does take good care of me and I truly am a lucky girl to have him. He misses you too, ya know.
I was your only child. I know you always wanted more. Though now, I'm kinda glad I never had to share you. I got all of you. All your love, all the time. Did you know you had all of mine? It's a question I've asked myself often. You were so excited to one day become a grandmother. You were never a fan of kids. Not other peoples anyway, you liked me!! Thank goodness. And you had no doubt in your mind that you would love mine as well. You would have been your silly, crazy self and they would have loved you.
What I wish I could tell you know is the struggles that happened the third year after you left. The ectopic that came as such a surprise. It's what really made Trevor want to have children. He was so scared before I think, then it was a reality...and then it wasn't and he was game after that. The weeding was perfect. Just like you and I imagined. Only thing missing was you. We started trying right after the wedding. You would have laughed at my impatience, the fact that we always knew I didn't get that from you. My cycles were wonky, but three months later, BFP. I would have called you the second I found out. I know how thrilled you would have been. The struggles that came after with the spotting, I wanted you so bad to tell me that it was okay. Then when they scheduled the ultrasound on the anniversary of your death, I knew that there was no way that anything would be wrong with this pregnancy. The universe simply couldn't be that cruel. Or so I thought. You would have been heartbroken right there with me. Through the D&C's and the holiday's that were so hard for me last year.
We thought that after the IUD ectopic and the other quick pregnancy, surely it would happen again soon, and this time it would be fine. These past 9 months have not been what I expected and more than anything I've needed you. I sometimes feel the pain that this would have caused you though. I still remember the tears that you shed for my closest friend each time an IVF didn't work. I'll never forget how much it hurt you each time that you heard about her struggles. Maybe it's better that you don't know that I'm now going through the same thing. Would it hurt you too much? Does it make me selfish to wish you were here anyway? Cross your fingers, Mom. I need all the support I can get.
I went home this weekend. I remember why we both left. We don't fit it. We love them, and they love us, but we are most definitely different. Thank you for making me different. I so much like you that I can't decide if you'd laugh or cry. I only seem to get MORE like you every year. You'd love it. I do.
I hope somewhere you're drinking scotch over a desert sunset...most likely from a hammock.
Love you mom...always.