Special Moms

There it was, nestled in a March 11, 2007, journal entry titled “Brainstorm of Topics for Books on Mothering.”  More than seven years before I left my career as a speech-language pathologist, I set a goal to write at least one book on mothering.

Special Moms was one of many titles I brainstormed that day. I wanted to share stories about moms who had unique journeys to and through motherhood. There’s beauty to be found in any battle, especially motherhood.

When I started dreaming about writing way back in 2003, the original vision was to become an author of real, relevant and raw books on mothering. That dream has since morphed. I’ve never claimed to be a “mom blogger,” but I’m not afraid to blog about motherhood. I no longer envision a future as a sole author of mom books, but I’m sure there’s a book or two about motherhood in me.

While this isn’t a book, the heart of Special Moms is alive and well!

In 2013, I made the Special Moms dream come alive with a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. In 2014, I intended to run the series again, but time got away from me, so I wrote a series titled Motherhood Unraveled instead. In 2015, I resurrected Special Mamas as the annual guest post series I originally intended it to be, and went ALL IN with a total of 13 guest posts!

So here we are. It’s time to launch the Third Annual Special Mamas blog series!

During the month of May, I’ll be hosting 10 Special Mamas.

10 Special Mamas will write guest posts.

10 Special Mamas will share their unique stories to and through motherhood.

10 Special Mamas will reveal their hopes and dreams for motherhood.

10 Special Mamas will get vulnerable.

10 Special Mamas will expose bits of themselves that are raw and real.

10 Special Mamas will impart wisdom.

10 Special Mamas will uncover beauty in least expected places.

10 Special Mamas will proclaim the hope they’ve found, the love they’ve shared.

10 Special Mamas will share the newfound perspectives they’ve discovered along the way.

Katie fell in love with a father of twins who lost his wife to Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Click here to read Katie’s guest post, Grace at its Finest.

Lisa’s son was diagnosed with Isovaleric Acidemia, a rare metabolic disorder that threatened his life within days of his birth. Click here to read Lisa’s guest post, Dealing with a Rare Disease Diagnosis. 

Jess became a mama quickly, patiently through international adoption, then unexpectedly after a long road through unexplained secondary infertility. Click here to read Jess’ guest post, Quickly, Patiently and Unexpectedly.

My younger sister, Tiffany, has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder – bipolar type. Tiffany honored our mom’s unique journey through motherhood with a guest post thanking her for all the ways she’s supported my sister from childhood to current day. Click here to read Tiffany’s guest post, Thank You, Mom! 

One year ago, Cindy and her husband adopted a sweet boy with Down syndrome, which added to their already beautifully-formed family of 2 biological children, 3 adopted foster children, and 1 biological daughter with Down syndrome. Click here to read Cindy’s guest post, What I Couldn’t Tell You Then.

Aprille is a special mama of two. Her son has multiple behavioral diagnoses, and her husband is an Afghanistan veteran who struggles with anxiety. On the best of days, Aprille feels like she’s barely managing. Click here to read Aprille’s guest post, When Your Special Needs Family Wears You Thin. 

Dawn’s 11-year-old daughter has a rare genetic abnormality which resulted in severe neurological issues, severe intellectual/developmental disabilities, neuromuscular issues, G.I. issues, common variable immune deficiency, vision issues, and cardiac concerns. She will require full-time caregiving for the rest of her life. Click here to read Dawn’s guest post, Through the Darkness of Our Challenges, the Light of Joy Prevails.

Jill grew up in a family in which “denial, shaming and blaming were key coping strategies.” When she became a stepmom, she was forced to face the pain of her past. Click here to read Jill’s guest post, How Being a Stepmom Helped Me Understand My Mother.

Caroline and Mike tried for years, met with fertility specialists, tried infertility treatments, and experienced more than one miscarriage. They have now decided to grow their family through adoption! Click here to read Caroline’s post, Our Journey of Loss, Faith and Hope.

Disa is a mom of FIVE, including a set of QUADRUPLETS! She’s discovered many hidden blessings as a mama of quads. Click here to read Disa’s post, Hidden Blessings.

10 Brave Mamas.

10 Special Mamas.

Friends, you are going to LOVE these mamas. I’ve found great authenticity and hope in their stories, and I know you will, too.

Motherhood is beautiful, life-changing, and of utmost importance. Motherhood is indeed a calling. But motherhood is also incredibly real. It tests us and takes us on journeys we never imagined in our wildest dreams. It brings all varieties of special circumstances we never thought we’d have to face. When we whole-heartedly embrace our unique journey to and through motherhood, beauty emerges, hope emerges. Motherhood produces fruit in our lives like nothing else.

So let’s be real. Let’s be raw. Let’s learn together. Because the truth is, we’re all Special Mamas.

This post serves as the landing page for Special Mamas 2016. ALL 10 guest posts will be linked in the post above. I put the Special Mamas graphic in the right sidebar of my blog’s home page. Anytime you want to read a post from the series, go to the blog at amybethpederson.com, click on the Special Mamas graphic, and it will bring you to this post. We’ll be writing a little book here throughout the month! Come. Enjoy. Be filled with beauty, hope and truth about motherhood.

 

Today is St. Patrick’s Day! Easter is in 10 days. And Mother’s Day will be here before we know it. With that in mind, I’m already planning my annual Mother’s Day guest post series, Special Mamas.

In May 2013, I hosted my first Special Mamas series. The series featured guest posts from a variety of moms who experienced unique journeys to and through motherhood. The series went fabulously and I knew immediately I would continue it annually.

Time got away from me in in the spring of 2014, so I skipped Special Mamas and wrote a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled instead. It, too, went well, but I always knew I’d return to Special Mamas in 2015.

In May 2015, I went full in and hosted the largest Special Mamas yet. It was an incredible honor to host 13 moms as they shared their unique stories to and through motherhood.

As the host of this month-long series, I can tell you with certainty that it is a high honor to stand beside you as you share your stories with the world. Real life unfolds your mothering stories, you write them down in whatever way works for you, I receive the stories and pretty them up with formatting and photos, then we stand together, sharing the struggles, the joys, the mountains climbed, the valleys endured to get to and through this story called motherhood.

The readers? They LOVE it. They WANT to hear your story. I’ve done this enough to know it’s true.

Motherhood is a journey.

It’s real. It’s important. And it’s holy.

All of us, every one of us, have a unique path to motherhood and a unique journey through motherhood.

We are special mamas.

So here we are. Mother’s Day will be here before we know it! I run the Special Mamas guest post series all of May, which means it’s time to start lining up a group of special mamas who are willing to write about their journey to and/or through motherhood.

In 2013, I personally invited all the special mamas who guest posted.

In 2015, I opened the invitation to anyone who wanted to participate.

This year, I’m mixing it up. Two moms have already accepted a personal invitation, but I’m also extending the invitation to anyone who would like to participate!

Think you might be interested?

Here are the details…

1) You like to write! And maybe you’re good at it too?!

2) You’re willing to share your mothering story publicly in a guest post on my blog, amybethpederson.com.

3) You’re willing to be vulnerable in telling your story. These posts will have the greatest impact if you’re willing to share your journey, but also your thoughts and feelings about the journey. Perhaps you’ve had to be patient. Perhaps your faith has led you through. Perhaps you’ve had to tap into community to help along the way. Perhaps motherhood isn’t anything like you expected. Perhaps you’re frustrated, in grief, or elated beyond belief. I don’t know your story, but we want to hear it.

Listen moms. I need you to hear this. Your story doesn’t need to be perfect or resolved or awesome or incredibly holy and inspiring to be good. Don’t disqualify yourself because you think your story isn’t “good enough.” I want ALL the stories. The easy ones, the hard ones, the inspiring ones, the off-the-wall ones, and everything in-between. I KNOW there are hidden gems out there.

4) Your guest post will need to be between 500-1,200 words in length. I will accept longer submissions up to 2,000 words if your story necessitates, but will not accept submissions shorter than 500 words. Please note, you are responsible for revising and editing your story before sending it to me.

5) I’ll need a minimum of 4-5 photographs from you to include in the blog post, horizontal orientation strongly preferred. More photos are just fine. This blog is big on photos! If I read your story and feel additional photos would be helpful to tell the story, I may ask you to send more.

6) You have plenty of time to write and edit your guest post. All posts will be published on my blog, Divine in the Daily, between May 1st and May 31st, 2016. All posts need to be submitted to me 7-10 days in advance of your assigned date of publication. When you sign up to guest post, I’ll ask whether you prefer to be published early, middle, or late May. I’ll assign a date based on the preference you indicated!

7) Once your story is in my hands, I promise to read it and send you general thoughts and impressions within THREE days. This series requires that I am on top of my game, constantly pulling in content, sorting it, organizing it, and pushing it back out. But I am WHOLLY COMMITTED to honoring your story by reading it and responding in a timely a fashion, even if I’m not able to get to details until closer to publication date. TWO and THREE days PRIOR to publication, I will be in contact with you heavily via email to review details, provide updates, and gather additional information.

8) You don’t have to be a blogger to participate in this series, but bloggers are more than welcome! If you’re a blogger, I will NOT edit your post unless I catch spelling errors. If you are NOT a blogger, I reserve the right to make small edits to your post, with final review by you prior to publication.

9) Let’s just say this…I am open to giveaways and special surprises! If you have any ideas along these lines, please let me know and I am happy to discuss the possibilities.

Last, but not least, you might be a good fit for this series if you are…

• A foster mama
• An adoptive mama
• A mama in the process of adopting
• A foster mama who turned into an adoptive mama
• A mama who’s going through infertility
• A woman who REALLY WANTS TO BE A MAMA, but isn’t yet
• A mama of a child who has special needs of any kind
• A mama who has a mental illness
• A mama of a child who has a mental illness
• A mama of multiples
• A mama with multiple children (6 or more children)
• A mama who has one child (by choice or for other reasons)
• A mama who’s going through a major life transition
• A missionary mama
• A mama whose husband has passed away
• A mama living abroad
• A mama who’s been through divorce
• A teen mama or someone who gave birth as a teen
• A military mama
• A mama whose mother passed away at an early age
• A mama who never had a mother in her life at all
• A mama who was adopted as an infant or child
• A mama who’s single
• A woman who doesn’t plan to have children
• A mama who’s living in poverty
• A grandma who’s raising her grandchildren
• A grandma who’s actively helping raise her grandchildren
• A stepmom
• A mama who’s experienced more than one miscarriage
• A mama who’s experienced stillbirth
• A mama who’s lost a baby or child
• A mama whose child HAS experienced or IS experiencing a significant medical crisis
• A husband who would like to honor his wife’s mothering journey
• A father who would like to honor his daughter’s mothering journey
• A mother who would like to honor her daughter’s mothering journey
• Children (small or all grown up) who would like to honor their mother’s journey

If you don’t see yourself listed above, but think your mothering story is similarly unique, please let me know! We’ll connect and definitely get you in the series if your journey seems to fit.

If you’re unsure and want to get an idea of what the guest posts are like, I strongly encourage you to look through last year’s series. CLICK HERE to connect to Special Mamas 2015, then scroll to the bottom where all 13 posts are listed and linked. 

If everything I’ve listed above feels like a match, and you’d like to write a guest post for my “Special Mamas” guest post series in May 2016, please fill out the Survey Monkey form below. It’s just a few questions and shouldn’t take you more than a couple minutes. This is a way to share your name, email and brief summary of who you are without making it public quite yet.

CLICK HERE TO CONNECT TO THE SURVEY AND INDICATE INTEREST IN WRITING A GUEST POST FOR THE SPECIAL MAMAS SERIES 2016!

This year, I’ll be featuring a total of 9 moms in the Special Mamas series. I already have 2 mamas committed to sharing. That means, I’m looking for 7 more mamas to share guest posts in May.

Thanks everyone! I can’t wait to see who’ll be sharing this year. I’ll keep an update here on the blog and on Facebook so you know when I’ve reached 9, or if I’m still looking for submissions. In the meantime, if you know anyone who might be interested in sharing their story, please share this post!

This is a guest post written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Once a month, Tiffany documents a single day in her life. The purpose of these posts is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with a mental illness. I’m also hoping the posts will help readers recognize that we all have hopes, dreams, challenges and mountains to climb regardless of our mental health status. If you’d like to read all the posts I’ve written about Tiffany’s journey and all the guest posts she’s shared on this blog, check out the mental health page. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

My life is not all glorious and sucks sometimes! The night before, I told my mom I was going to write about this day. Little did I know, chances to grow were in the making. Here goes a day.

Positive attitude.

Tired.

Coffee. Pills. Smoke.

Brush teeth.

Kids awake. Feed them.

Psychologist appointment in an hour.

Get kids ready. Drop kids off at mom and dad’s place.

Off to appointment.

My psychologist asked me what emotions I was experiencing. We are working on emotion. I feel lonely, sad and get kind of angry at times. My psychologist recommended a book on loneliness for me to read. I am also in the grieving process. The stages of grief can last for years. Reality is that my dad is probably going to die in the next couple years. He included us in helping plan his funeral. The process has caused growth, and I’d almost say it has been beautiful. I selected a blue urn with butterflies on it for his ashes. When he dies, I am going to sprinkle them at special places. I also selected a pendant for his ashes. I am having a hemp necklace made to go with it. My dad is still around, and we enjoy each moment we can. We cannot always control the situation or outcome. Only God can. One day at a time. I am also grieving the loss of a boyfriend I was with for a year and a half. We are both addicts, and are attempting to live one day at a time. We realize that we cannot plan the future. I wish him the best, whatever direction his life goes.

Leave psychologist.

Coffee.

Pick-up kids from mom and dad’s place.

I drove home and found a book on the table outside my door. The book is called Women Who Love Too Much. Yes, I have always loved too much. This book calls for change, which is in process for me. My mental health worker arrived at my house. I was looking through the book and thinking. My mental health worker asked, “What’s that book telling you?” I told her I need to think about it and read it through. The rest of the time, we talked about what else was happening in life.

Pills.

WIC shopping. I think WIC stands for Women, Infants and Children? Those are coupons for food that qualifying families get. The food really helps us. We also get help with food from my mom.

That same day I decided to give away my pregnancy clothing to my adorable neighbor who is having a baby. I am done having children. This decision was hard for me, but I realize I have enough work with two children.

My mom wanted to bring all of us out for dinner. I just wanted to feed the kids at home. We came to a consensus for my mom to bring my daughter, Raegan, out for dinner. They also went shopping. This day, just live.

When Raegan and my mom got home, we went outside and played.

Pills.

Night time.

Kids asleep.

Planned time for myself, but I fell asleep because I was so tired.

Tiffany

It’s a great honor to introduce you to Kathleen who’s sharing her unique journey through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Kathleen is a wife and mama of two sweet girls. Her oldest daughter, Teagan, received an incredibly rare genetic diagnosis of Trisomy 12p just before her first birthday. Teagan’s diagnosis has been incredibly life changing and has made life incredibly challenging. Kathleen loves her daughter fiercely and will fight to the ends of the earth advocating on her behalf, but this journey has also caused Kathleen to question her faith like never before. Friends, this post is ridiculously moving. I cried the first time I read it, and continue to be deeply moved with every subsequent read. When Kathleen submitted her post, she offered to tone down the anger and uncertainty given the spirit of my blog. I reassured her, “This is so good. So beautiful. I don’t even have words. It’s okay to question. It’s okay.” You must read Kathleen’s story. You simply must. This post embodies everything I ever envisioned this series to be. Thank you, Kathleen. 

My daughter was six months old when we first suspected something was wrong. It started innocently enough – our daycare provider mentioned that Teagan ought to be sitting up by now. We knew she had low muscle tone, but every doctor we’d spoken with had either brushed it off or attributed it to her difficult birth (her lungs were blocked and she didn’t get air for a few minutes). We figured it stemmed from that, and made an appointment with a physical therapist. Not incredibly worried.

As the months passed since that first appointment, the developmental delays began to pile up. My husband kept a positive outlook, our parents kept a positive outlook, and our friends would say things like “But she’ll be fine, right?” Call it mother’s intuition – I knew bad news was coming.

We began an onslaught of appointments to try and figure out what this elusive issue was. We visited neurologists, therapists, and early childhood specialists; we ran MRIs, EEGs and every test under the sun.

And we prayed constantly. I had a strong Catholic upbringing, and God was whom I had turned to with every hope, every fear, every gratitude for as long as I can remember. I prayed it was something we could overcome. Prayed it was something that would still allow her to have a normal life. Prayed that God would NOT let something be wrong with my perfect, sweet, lovely baby girl.

It was our second neurologist who suggested we do genetic testing. I will never forget that phone call, just before Teagan turned one, with the diagnosis: Trisomy 12p, the mosaic version. A portion of Teagan’s cells had extra material on the P arm of the 12th chromosome. That teeny tiny, itty bitty blip of material was causing – and would continue to cause – enormous problems. Our diagnosis was incredibly rare. Incredibly life changing. Incredibly limiting.

The days after the diagnosis were a blur of tears, snuggles, confusion and anger. Tears because I couldn’t believe I was being told that this wonderful little being in my arms had something “wrong” with her. Snuggles because I loved her so much and wasn’t going to let her down. Confusion because no one would give me a straight answer…will she be able to walk? We don’t know. Will she go to normal school? We don’t know. Will she have a good quality of life? We’ll have to wait and see. And anger because I didn’t understand how this could have happened. I thought God was watching out for me! I’m not perfect, but I’m a good person…and forget about me, what about HER?! She is 100% innocent! I was furious. And there was no one to be mad at. Except God.

I would head to work in the morning and scream at God for the entire drive. I would feel better during the day; when I was at work I actually knew what to do with myself. I would spend my evenings and days off with my sweet baby and decide the doctors and therapists were nuts, because my daughter was PERFECT, and they had to be mistaken.

My husband would research, which often times made us feel more confused and alone. The most complete study we found on Trisomy 12p was thirty years old, and listed forty confirmed cases. Forty. Of all the people in the world now, and of all the people who have ever been…forty.

And together, the three of us would progress. To the next doctor’s appointment. To the next brain scan. To the next therapy session. To the next developmental milestone. They came late. They came slowly. But when they did come, we would rejoice. This is still the way we operate today.

Needless to say, parenting has not been what I had expected. I didn’t expect to be a special mama. I didn’t expect to forego music and dance classes in lieu of physical therapy and speech sessions. I didn’t expect I would purposely use sign language in public so it was clear to everyone that something is different. I didn’t expect my daughter would ask me to sing Row Row twenty times a day because it is one of the few things she can communicate and it makes her feel connected. I didn’t expect to worry she would spend her school years eating lunch by herself. I didn’t expect to fear that someday she’ll live in a home and no one will come to visit her on Christmas. I didn’t expect to find it so hard to talk to my children about God. I didn’t expect I could be in a room full of friends and laughing children and feel completely alone.

I also didn’t expect to find out so much about myself. That I would be able to work so hard and love so fiercely. That I would become a unique kind of leader. That I would know when to fight for my daughter. That I would develop a level of compassion deeper than I knew possible. And I didn’t expect that the hardest worker I’ve ever known would be my own tiny child. It took five months to teach Teagan to roll over, something most babies don’t have to be taught. But she did it. It took three different physical therapists and inserts in her shoes to teach Teagan to walk. But she did it. She signs. She is working on talking. She is smart and stubborn and wonderful. And she loves. Oh how she loves, with her huge smiles and gentle touches, her sweet kisses and full body hugs.

There is a lot of confusion in my life, which you’ve probably gathered by now (warning: here is the part where I sound like a self-righteous brat). I feel incredibly lucky to have the determined, loving man I chose to partner with for life. And I know that were the bonds with some of my family members and friends not as strong as they are, I would feel more alone and less supported than I do. But I don’t give God credit for that. I did that. I feel very much self reliant. Maybe someday I’ll look back and see his hand in these “blessings” – but not yet. I’m still pissed.

I can go from hating God, to begging him for help, to deciding I don’t believe in him, to thanking him for my daughters, in the span of about five minutes. If I will ever believe the way I used to remains to be seen. I’m working on it.

The mantra I repeat to myself for my own broken faith, and for my role as a special mama, is a quote from Rudyard Kipling:

“God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.”

Well. I don’t know if it’s true. It doesn’t give any clarity as to why God would allow my daughter to have such a challenging life. But it does sum up how I feel about my duties as Teagan’s mom, now and as she grows older.

To protect her from harm.

To fight for her and the rights she deserves.

To be proactive about anything that will help her progress.

To push her to try harder.

To teach her to be an advocate for herself.

To let her know there is always someone behind her.

To make her possibilities limitless.

To create an environment where she feels completely surrounded in love.

I don’t know if this feeling came from God. My faith is completely broken, and at this moment, I can’t say whether or not I believe in him. But I’m not going to stop praying…hopefully that counts for something. And I’m not going to stop working, relentlessly, with my sweet little girl.

Kathleen

Kathleen is an Iowa transplant with a passion for wine, the Cyclones, Harry Potter, and most of all, her family. She lives in the Twin Cities suburbs where she enjoys getting outside with her husband and two daughters as often as possible, the way good Minnesotans do. She began blogging shortly after her oldest daughter’s rare genetic disability diagnosis in 2012 as a way to cope with a roller coaster of emotions and share her family’s story. You can read more about the Trisomy 12p diagnosis on her blog at rockinglion.wordpress.com.

 

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Mariah who’s sharing her unique journey through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Yesterday marked two years since Mariah’s husband passed away from cancer. At 34 years of age, Mariah was a widowed mother of two daughters, ages two and four. Today, Mariah’s not just sharing her story; she’s letting us in on the ups and downs, the emotions, the challenges, and the newfound life perspectives she’s gained since her husband’s passing. Please extend a warm welcome to Mariah. It’s a true honor to host her story of loss, grief and loving life on this special anniversary.

My husband, Greg, died of cancer on May 26, 2013, at age 46. He took his last labored breath as I drifted off to sleep next to him, still holding his hand. I was 34 and we had two young daughters, ages two and four. His diagnosis, treatment and last days of life began and ended in three short months. It was so quick and intense that we had a hard time keeping up. Many times over the last two years I’ve shocked myself with the realization that he’s gone. As a 36-year-old mother who still feels like a child myself sometimes, I’m terrified that the responsibility of parenting falls directly on me. Just me. A few days after the funeral, the girls and I were swinging out in our big backyard when a wave of deep grief washed over me. I felt so small, alone and abandoned and had started sobbing. I looked up at them. They had both stopped what they were doing and looked at me as if to say, “You’re all we’ve got, Mama. What do we do now?” I remember smiling and reaching out to them. I had no clue what to do next, but for some reason I trusted myself, I trusted them and I trusted that Greg would always be with us and anything we did would be okay. Succeeding would be okay. Failing would be okay. And something in between would be just right. And the first thing to do was to make dinner so I took their hands and led them inside.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.” – C.S. Lewis

I met Greg in 2001 while working at an advertising agency in Minneapolis. We became friends, playing basketball with co-workers on our lunch breaks.

A couple years (and lots of love and life) later, we bought a house in Wisconsin, got married in our front yard and started a family. Squirmy was born in 2008 and Squeaky in 2011. As Greg used to tell each of the girls, Squirmy made us a family and Squeaky made our family complete.

We had a happy and relaxed life together. I was lucky enough to stay home and Greg worked second shift so our days never felt rushed. We didn’t take anything for granted when Greg was healthy and talked a lot about how lucky we were. I remember leaving holidays or get-togethers being so thankful that out of all of the people in this world, I got to go home with the three of them. There were a lot of morning cuddles in our bed, singing and dancing in the kitchen and sending Daddy to work with little girl kisses spilling out of his pockets.

“Grief, after all, is the price we pay for love.” – David Malham

Shortly after Squeaky turned two, Greg developed a stomach ache that never went away. All the tests pointed to lung cancer…stage 4. It took a month of intense and unsuccessful radiation and chemotherapy before Greg was put on hospice. Most of May 2013 was spent at home, making the most of our last days with him.

We were very open and honest with our children about what was happening and what was ultimately going to happen. It was more than heartbreaking to tell them that their Daddy was going to die soon. “You know…like that bird we saw in the grass at the park or that tree lying on the forest floor. Everything that is living eventually dies, it’s called a life cycle. And it happens to people as well. You understand what dead means, right?” It was bewildering to be saying these words and explaining this concept to my babies.

One night when Greg was rapidly worsening, I told Squirmy that he would be dying soon. He had just given her and her sister each a butterfly box full of his kisses that would last their entire lives. As I was tucking her in, she asked me, “Mama, is Daddy going to die tonight?” I told her, “I don’t know. But yes, baby, he might.” She nodded and snuggled in while I rubbed her back, tears streaming down my face.

He did die that night and I woke the girls early the next morning to say goodbye. Squirmy sat next to me with her head buried in my lap. Squeaky focused on all the adult tears, taking it all in. One final kiss and Greg was wheeled out our front door. The girls played with their cousins and I crawled into our bed with the covers over my head. Now what?

I loved every wonderful and horrible minute of my life with Greg. I like to think the love we shared was so strong that it was only meant to last seven years. I loved to be the one holding his hand as he took his last breath because he was still there and he was still mine. The day he left us, things got a little tough. We had lost our most important person and now he wasn’t even here to help us through the grief. And so we learned to lean on each other. My girls are so supportive of each other. I try to take credit for how caring they are, but deep down I think they came that way and the life they’ve experienced so far has given them a wisdom surpassing my own.

“The sad thing is, nobody ever really knows how much anyone else is hurting. We could be standing next to somebody who is completely broken and we wouldn’t even know it.” – Unknown

Right after Greg died, I took every opportunity to tell people that my husband had died. Two years since he’s been gone and I still do this. I feel like I was stabbed in the heart the moment we heard the word cancer. But none of my scars are visible to the outside world. And because of this, I need to tell people. I need to tell people so they will be gentle with me and my kids. Because I’ve been on this side of a partially hidden pain, I feel a lot more empathetic to the quiet struggles of others. People I do not know, and even people I do know, are facing much more than I could ever hope to understand. So I try to treat everyone with as much kindness as I can. And by doing this and expecting kindness in return from others, I haven’t been let down.

There’s a lot about being a young, widowed mother that’s hard to explain. Some is obvious because I just can’t be two places at one time. If we have to go somewhere, we all go. My sweet Squirmy hasn’t been carried into the house after a family night out since she was four. If Mama is having a bad day, there’s nobody to take over. Sometimes I don’t want to explain these things because I don’t want to complain. After all that has happened, I know we have a great life and I have two beautiful children inside and out. They’re a daily reminder of their amazing father who took every opportunity to tell them, “You are wonderful. And I love you just for being you.”

“If we all threw our problems into a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.” – Regina Brett

I’m also coming to terms that it’s not all about me anymore. I have lived the last two years looking deeply inward on our family because it’s what we needed. But now I’m ready to shift the focus to others. I see friends and family going through their own struggles. I see horrible tragedies and injustice in the world and I know that I have no more or less pain than anyone else. Just different. I will always be thankful for Greg and the life we had with him.

All of this life experience is making me who I am and I’m enjoying my growth. I used to be a lot more doubtful of myself and decisions I made. But now, I trust in myself. I trust in others. I trust in my children. I include them in making decisions that will affect them so that they can give input and have the time to adjust to change. I try not to shelter them from the world. When they ask questions, I answer as truthfully as I can.

I took the girls to England this spring to spread some of Greg’s ashes. I was terrified to take this trip because the world is scary, isn’t it? I booked the tickets, had a little panic attack and then I did a lot of planning, keeping only wonderful thoughts in my head. The day we spread Greg’s ashes was cold and sunny and the wind was wild, but it swept him up the hill like he belonged there. I knew our Greg would have absolutely loved the adventure. This wide-open world that he left for us has opened the door, allowing us to become the people we are meant to be.

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” – Buddha

I never imagined that this would be my life. I’m learning that I love the comfort in relinquishing control of what happens in life. I feel as if I’m driving a car on perpetual cruise. All I can do is steer us to the best view possible, rolling down the windows to feel the sun and the wind and point out the beauty to my girls along the way. I try to show courage and empathy and a feeling of excitement about the adventures life has to offer.

Even now, I’m building us a new house and I’m welcoming a new relationship. It’s all terrifying and thrilling and overwhelming, but it feels so right. I know that my children are doing great because sometimes they are sassy and happy and sad and brilliant and moody and wise and they don’t listen to me and I have to remind them one million times to put on their shoes. I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be.

I still sometimes feel the gaze of my daughters, a little older now, asking with their eyes, “What do we do now, Mama?” I’m sure it will change as the years go by, but right now I think I know what I want to say to them: “Take my hand and follow my lead. You already know that life isn’t fair. It can be beautiful and horrible and we will constantly have to adjust. You ARE wonderful, just by being you. And if you can continue to be brave and kind, trust yourself and not blame anyone else for what happens, your life will be magnificent.”

Mariah

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 13 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. At the bottom of the post, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!