Like so many children, my son’s interest in dogs started when he was young. The excitement he felt when he saw a dog resulted in squeals of delight and eventually evolved into begging, pleading and being the number one present on his wish list. As animal lovers ourselves, my husband, Eric, and I started seriously weighing the pros and cons of getting a dog. Eric was all for it, but juggling a career, family and everyday responsibilities already had my head spinning. Adding a dog into the mix seemed like it would push our family into further chaos. 

On September 7, my husband died unexpectedly. Nothing could have prepared me for the heartbreak, fear and grief that followed. My loss wasn’t the worst of it. The most gut-wrenching pain comes from seeing my son experiencing the same feelings. In a day, our world was turned upside down, and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Suddenly, our once vibrant home was too quiet. The void left by my husband’s absence was immeasurable and undeniable. My son buried himself in his iPad and me in my phone. He played Roblox, while I mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. 

One day, four months later, my son said, “You know, dad promised me a dog when I turned 9.” Gulp. This was a pivotal moment. What do I do with that information? I was just learning how to navigate life as a newly single parent. That alone was overwhelming. And to adopt a dog in the mix? I was at a fork in the road, and I didn’t know what to do. My son had been so closed off since he lost his father. I closed my eyes, took a breath and told my son we were adopting a dog. 

He beamed with excitement as we drove to pick up our new pet while I tried to manage the self-doubt and panic running through my head. It all happened so fast. We pulled up to the house, I signed the paperwork, put the dog in the carrier and was back on the 405-freeway heading home. In less than 30 minutes, Stormy joined our family. 

I was so focused on the added responsibility of owning a dog that I never considered the precious moments Stormy would bring. I didn’t realize how much she would help us emotionally. My son and I traded screen time for playing on the floor. We attended training classes together. We were so proud when Stormy learned her name. We laughed to tears when she stole chicken off the kitchen table. We feel so much love for her when she shows us she misses us by pulling our clothes downstairs to a certain spot.  

I’ve watched my son become more confident because of Stormy. He’s more comfortable talking to people who want to pet her and has learned it’s important to think about someone other than yourself. For me, her snuggles calm me, and her daily walks get me outside, no matter how low I’m feeling. What can I say? I’m happy I threw caution to the wind and listened to my son. We needed Stormy. I’m a convert: and 100% certain that dogs are worth it.   

Stormy celebrated her 2nd birthday this month. 

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Whelp we’ve made it to Christmas. It’s the time of year where one’s heart should grow three sizes and goodwill should be sprinkled like the curse words you use while trying to find the last-minute gift that your child decided was the gift of the year that you did not buy.

This is also the time of year where grief hits me hard. We recently sat down with our eager three-year-old and asked her what she hopes Santa will bring her. It was a complete fail as her belief in St. Nick is so pure this year her response was: “He knows what I want.” I want to be like, he really doesn’t so if you can help us so we don’t have the repeat of last year—where she asked numerous times who got her this? And then her famous, “Well I don’t like it.”

She keeps us on our toes so we have a backup fund labeled “Vivi” if she decides to give us a list.

But then there is my sweet seven-year-old boy Whit. He doesn’t communicate in the conventional way. I always think of the song from Bandaid “Does he know it’s Christmas time at all?!”

This year, for the first time ever, he marveled at the tree. We’ve tried to set up pictures in hopes of getting some kind of idea of what he wants for Christmas. I’m usually not an organized Christmas shopper. My husband and I have been known to run to Target on Christmas Eve for a last-minute Christmas gift or ten.

I think Whit’s not caring has given me this, “What’s the point attitude.” As I load a virtual cart with things, I think, “Will this be the year?! Will this be the time he acknowledges a gift and plays with it properly?!” Usually, it’s a no and there is always a twinge of disappointment. We have a closet full of gifts we thought would work but have backfired horribly.

Why do we keep them you may be asking? Because as a mom I have this mindset that there is always next year. There’s always next year to try Santa again. There’s always next year to get a Christmas list from Whit. There’s always next year. Then my mind wanders to what if there isn’t ever a year where he cares? What if all the Christmas buying, and therapy to help Whit process any celebration is all done in vain because I’m the mom who can’t let go and accept our reality? I get that way when people ask us for a Christmas list for Whit. He’s possibly into LEGOs, he seems to like to watch us attempt to put them together.

This is the first year that our 3-year-old is 100% sold on Christmas and I’m living up every moment of it but at the same time hoping and praying that maybe this will be the year that Whitman will open a gift, be excited, acknowledge us and play with it. I know that’s a huge hope—I’d take any of that sequence in a heartbeat. We are building our three-year-old a Target and Starbucks for our playroom. While ordering all the supplies and in my excitement, my husband stopped me and said: “I don’t want to ruin this for you but what about Whit?!” I tried to convince him that Whit has been showing interest in pretend play with his sister so fingers crossed. I added a few extra gifts for Whit to keep it even in hopes that maybe this will the year.

So here’s to the mom’s and dad’s who are feeling this too. May this be the year our kids surprise us in the best way, especially in a time where we are told to be happy but we grieve the loss of childhood traditions. May we find new holiday traditions that work for us. It’s not about the presents, I know, but sometimes it feels like it is. It’s about the love we have for each other and a reminder of how far we come in the last year even in the midst of a global pandemic. May this be the year of letting go, seeing the good, and having a little bit of hope.

This post originally appeared on The Althaus Life
Photo: The Althaus Life

 

Lindsey is a mom, wife, and blogger at The Althaus Life. She lives in Ohio with her husband and 2 children. Lindsey is grateful all things and to be able to chronicle her beautifully broken laugh til you cry cry until you laugh life.

Boy mom. It’s all I heard during my first, second, and third pregnancies. I never understood it. I don’t know what it is about me that says “boy mom” and honestly, I never really wanted it. I always wanted children. I was just fine to have a boy in the mix but, all I ever wanted, for as long as I can remember, was a little girl.

I think about that saying, “Man plans and God laughs,” a lot when it comes to my small brood of boys. I always planned for a little girl; three boys later and God is still laughing. When my first was born and they announced I had a little boy, I was shocked. I can still see my husband’s mouth bubbling around the letter B. I remember staring at him blankly. A boy? What was I going to do with a boy? I was positive I was having a girl; I would know what to do with a girl; I’d mentally prepared for a girl and now I had to readjust my emotions and expectations.

And Then Baby #2 Was a Boy

My next child came a quick 16 months later. Another healthy, beautiful baby boy; I was thrilled. I was also surprised…and a little disappointed. I’d tempered my expectations the second time around and announced at every opportunity that it was probably another boy, but quietly, I wished and prayed for my girl. God laughed again when baby boy #2 was born. He was absolutely perfect and I comforted myself with the knowledge that we would (more than likely) have a third. That’s when it would happen, I thought. Third time’s a charm; I’ll get my girl then.

And Then Baby #3 Showed Up

Baby #3 came two weeks early. My husband and I were at dinner with some of his work colleagues. I’d been having contractions, sporadic and irregular, nothing to worry about. Braxton Hicks, for sure. We spent a lovely evening with lovely people and I took my sweet time eating everything. Crab salad? Yes, please. The duck confit? Definitely. And I’m pregnant, so can I add mashed potatoes to that order? Is there any more bread? Dessert? I’m glad you asked. That flourless chocolate torte looks delicious.

On the 15-minute ride back to our house, I went from contractions every 25+ minutes to every 5 minutes. My husband was ready to go to the hospital immediately. I made us wait and time the contractions; we got to the hospital at 2 a.m.

Matthew was born around 7:00 that morning. I pushed that baby out and held my breath, waiting for the nurses to tell me it was a girl. I had a name ready. I would see her and hold her and my family would be complete. It was my husband who finally got a glimpse of the goods and told me that I had another son…and I burst into tears. Another boy. A third boy. For one quick, irrational moment, I thought: no, it’s fine, there’s another baby in there and she’ll be out in a minute. Then they laid him on top of me. He immediately curled up, started sucking his fingers, and I fell completely in love. He was perfect, an absolutely beautiful baby boy.

The feelings lingered. The sadness, the disappointment, and the utter bemusement that I was now mother to three boys and zero girls. It never even crossed my mind that, when I had my babies, they’d be boys. Most of the people I know have a mix of boys and girls; why would I be different? And so, I cried and then I cried some more. And then I cried off and on for my entire first week home.

My husband couldn’t understand. Here we were, blessed with three beautiful, healthy children. I had healthy pregnancies. The boys were lively and energetic and happy. Why was I so upset? Why couldn’t I be happy with the family we had?

I am happy with the family we have, I told him. I don’t want to give any of the boys back. I wouldn’t trade any of my boys for a girl. Our boys are beautiful and they are happy and they are loved, but I spent my entire life thinking I would have a daughter and now, that isn’t something that will happen for me. After each baby, I comforted myself with the knowledge that we’d try again. Now, our three children are birthed and here and (I hope) thriving and this dream, this expectation, that I’ve had my whole life is gone. It felt like a death, and I felt like I was mourning a whole life of things I’d never now never get to do. Some of it was superficial: the sweet clothes and precious nursery, ruffled bubbles, and smocked dresses, coats, tights, and bows.

The Hardest Part about Not a Having a Girl

The hardest part was emotional. It was letting go of something I’d wanted as long as I could remember, of something I’d always expected to have in my life. These feelings were heart wrenching and devastating in ways I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t work harder or take a class or save money to earn what I wanted. I was entirely at the mercy of God, fate, biology. “You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit.” Only I did pitch a fit, in my way. I cried; I mourned; and I put it away because really, what else can you do?

I adore my boys—their sweetness and energy, their big hearts, and hilarious toddler commentary. I look at them and can’t believe they’re mine; my heart simply swells. My wild Washington trio humbles me and challenges me and fills me with joy.

I’m able to get my “girls fix” from nieces and goddaughters and children of friends and family who are generous enough to share their daughters with me. It helps, and those feelings of loss or “less than” have morphed into occasional aches…then one of my boys needs his mommy and the ache subsides.

This post originally appeared on Missy & Tots.

I'm 38, not single, but I do enjoy long walks on the beach. I'm a mom to 3 little boys, ages 5 and under; married to a wonderful man for almost 6 years. I work at the University of South Carolina (Go Gamecocks!) and live with my family in SC.

Why does being a woman have to be so complicated? I stood in front the mirror this morning in jeans and a bra, just staring.  This body of mine is just a body.  Over the course of the last couple of years, I have been trying to figure out how to give myself a pass for how I look, again. There has been unemployment (twice), moving (three times), changing jobs (three times), loss of my dad, the tail end of a bad marriage, a divorce, and a traumatic event.  I ate a lot of feelings.  But instead of focusing on the good, like the fact that my body is still capable of getting me anywhere I want to go without assistance, I make derogatory comments and hope people laugh with me. I’m so much more than my physical self yet I, as well as many other women, get caught up thinking about the body. We must find balance, but where is it?

Almost 13 years ago, I was 38 and was continuously telling myself that I didn’t want to turn 40 looking the way that I did. I was extremely overweight. I had some very bad habits. I made everyone around me think that I was okay with my weight. I used to talk about not having any health problems and I was going on dates, so men didn’t seem to mind. I don’t believe that anyone likes or enjoys being overweight. Anyone overweight that tells you that they are truly happy, are lying to you. I know because I was there, and I was one of those people lying to you. My inner dialogue was so much different.

Turning 40 wasn’t important enough, though, because 40 came and went and I still looked the same. Unfortunately, all I did was gain more weight after turning 40.  I stayed overweight and continued with conflicting internal and external dialogue through age 40, 41, and 42. 43 was the point when things started to change for me, physically. After a very emotional conversation with my parents in January of 2014, I started walking the next day and gave up eating sugar and a lot of things that would turn to sugar after eating them. It was somewhere between low carb and ketogenic.

Even after one hundred pounds of weight loss, I was still figuring out the mental part. A lot of people only think about the physical part of weight loss and don’t ever address the mental part. Aside from physical illnesses or certain medications, there millions of other reasons for weight gain and lack of ability to lose weight. We need to tackle the reasons why we gained weight and why we continue to hold on to the weight.

Are women ever truly happy with the body that reflects in the mirror? Honestly, no. After I lost my weight, I thought that I would never question my body again. I will admit that I questioned it far less than I had in previous years, but the questions were still there. The problem is that women do not ever look at their bodies through their own eyes. We look at our bodies through the eyes of media, through the eyes of men, through the eyes of other women, through the eyes of the 5th grade bullies, through the eyes of their love interest, etc. Women are consistently being set up to question themselves. Women are not allowed to be content with their own personal perfection.

Perfection related to anything is relative. What this means is that we all believe that “perfect” is something different. My point of perfection might be complete crap to someone else. The part that makes this so ridiculous is that I believe we all know this, yet we still set similar goals of perfection. The idea of perfection is something that all people need to let go of. The reason I say this is simple. We never reach the point of perfection in our own minds, let alone what anyone else thinks about what we are trying to accomplish. I’m sure you have heard the phrase, “you are your own worst critic.” It’s true and that is why we never reach what we believe is our personal perfection. We sabotage ourselves by believing that we have never quite gotten to perfection, when our lives, our bodies, our love lives, our whatever, is just where they are supposed to be. Instead of worrying about perfection, we need to start trusting ourselves more. We need to be dialed in to feelings of greatness. If it feels great, then it probably is. Take weight loss for instance. You have a goal to weigh 125 pounds and you have worked incredibly hard to get there. You changed your eating habits. You exercise regularly. You feel more amazing than you have in years, but you have been sitting at 128 pounds for months. And? What makes 125 more perfect than 128 pounds…absolutely nothing!  Everything is telling you that 128 is the sweet spot, so what’s the harm in listening to the universe and nothing else?

 

I am a single mom of three beautiful daughters ages 29, 20, and 15.  At 50, I am recently divorced and making a career change.  I'm trying to put my BA and my MA to use finally!  My life hasn't always been easy but I feel good about the future!

We all know the importance of STEM education for kids—that’s Science, Technology, Engineering and Math for anyone scratching their heads. And yes, we need the next generation to harness the power of the sun and wind for energy, solve myriad health crises and save the planet. But exposure to the arts—be it music, theater or the visual and performing arts—is essential for kids’ development as well, and often enhances whatever science-leaning learning children are engaged in. Read on to learn the benefits of arts education for kids and why it matters.

It'll boost their school achievements.

Jamie Salka

For the record, your child does not need to be a prodigy or virtuoso to reap the benefits of arts of all kinds. A recent Kinder Institute for Urban Research study of third to eighth graders showed arts-learning experiences in school reduced disciplinary infractions, increased compassion for others and boosted achievement in writing, while also improving school engagement and college aspirations.

They'll develop creative problem-solving skills.

Ketut Subiyanto via Pexels

If there’s a superfood of artistic disciplines, it’s music. Just listening to music activates multiple areas of the brain, but learning how to play an instrument, and practicing it over time, is like a pro-level workout for our grey matter (Neuroscientists know this thanks to brain imaging technology like fMRIs and PET scanners, which enable us to see where in the brain activity is occurring.).

Playing an instrument engages the brain in its entirety, a phenomenon that is most significant because numerous parts of the brain are being stimulated at the same time. Playing an instrument engages the more analytical right hemisphere of your brain, as well as the more creative, left hemisphere. This combination, as well as the flow of information between the two sides of the brain, supports the development of higher-level executive functioning, such as creative problem-solving. 

It helps to prevent memory loss later in life.

Dr. Nick Stafford via Pixabay

You know what they say: you can't stop the music. It’s not a stretch to say that receiving some kind of music education can help your child become a more well-adjusted individual and provide them with some valuable life skills. A Harris Poll of American adults found that 70% felt music education developed their ability to be effective team players in their careers, and two-thirds reported it helped them become disciplined problem solvers. 

But beyond all that, time and again, music education has been cited as aiding in language development and acquisition and spatial-temporal skills, the latter of which are key in the areas of math, engineering, architecture and computer science. Childhood music lessons have long-term benefits as well, helping to mitigate memory loss and cognitive decline in old age. 

They'll master social skills.

Kids on Stage

Working as part of a large group is central to the theater arts, performing arts such as dance and even visual arts such as film. The experience helps develop an appreciation of the value of teamwork and how different people bring different skills to a task. Enjoying or participating in the arts also develops a person’s capacity for empathy and compassion. The New Victory Theater, dedicated to presenting and bringing diverse performing arts productions to young audiences, observed the impact of arts education in schools through its program called “New Victory SPARK.”

According to Lindsey Buller Maliekel, VP, Education and Public Engagement at New 42, early findings of the data reveal that kids’ access to and engagement with the performing arts supports kids’ impulses to try new things; the capacity for self-reflection and an appreciation of someone’s life that is different from their own, and an increased perspective and interpersonal skills that strengthen teamwork. Additional benefits included increased hope, optimism and resilience. “These benefits feel particularly relevant as kids negotiate in a world that has a lot of ambiguity!” she says. 

They'll experience increased engagement.

back-to-school picture ideas
iStock

Arts education is linked with high academic success, and a 2012 National Endowment for the Arts study found that arts education can be especially helpful in supporting students from socioeconomically disadvantaged backgrounds. At-risk youth with high arts participation had better attendance, standardized test scores and a significantly lower dropout rate than their counterparts with no arts education. Additionally, students of the arts were more likely to attend and graduate from college. 

They'll have better self-esteem.

iStock

Yes, nailing that solo or soaking in applause during a curtain call is an effective way for your kid to get a self-esteem boost. But the even better news is that according to a 2019 study, just engaging in artistic pursuits such as music-making or listening, drawing or painting has a positive impact on a child’s self-esteem. (It’s even better if you play music with your kid; drawing is effective as a solo activity.)

 

—Mimi O’Connor

Feature image: Kids on Stage 

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The Olympics are a fan-favorite time of year for a multitude of reasons. Whether it’s the winter, summer Olympics or Paralympics, it’s expected that you’ll find athletes with superhuman abilities and the big life moments that led them there. Simply put, it’s a time filled with a never-ending well of inspiration.

These incredible displays of athleticism inspire people of all ages, adults to children alike. But the most exciting and heartwarming part of it all is the mark it leaves on children around the world. Parents and families take to social media to share videos and pictures of their children hooked on watching the spectacle. They’re inspired by what they see and are curious about how they can be just like that athlete one day.

Although it may not seem like it, the time after the Olympics has finally held its closing ceremonies can be the perfect opportunity to begin to push your child to explore what inspires them. The age old question is always, “How? How do I do it?” The answer to that question, which is a lot easier said than done, is: “Talk to your child.”

Not all children will feel inspired and driven by the same thing, so it’s important to first listen to your child and watch what they gravitate towards. Then, you can begin to build some activities and language to push them a little further. Here are 5 fun things you can do at home to help to foster a sense of pride and inspiration in your own home:

1. Hold a family awards ceremony. Your child can make certificates or ribbons to hand out, celebrating their own personal talents and those of others in the family.

2. Select a book focusing on inspiration and being your best self. Find moments during the story to ask your child questions during some inspiring moments like, “Have you ever felt like the character when she was in that situation?” See our recommended reading below.

3. Start a scrapbook together. Have your child document his or her “firsts” or special accomplishments. Share the pictures and tell stories about how proud you felt seeing him or her do the things in the pictures.

4. Share information about your family’s culture with your child. Explain to them some of the cultural values and traditions that your family holds and how it makes you feel proud. Talk about your own story growing up!

5. Host your own mini Olympics. Pick some Olympic fan favorites like soccer or a track race to host right in your own backyard, or use some of your own family’s favorite games. It can even be an Olympics filled with board games like Scrabble or Twister! Take some inspiration from one of our own Academies, Kiddie Academy of Fisher’s Landing here!

As we talk about inspiration and pride, an often-overlooked aspect is also helping children learn how to deal with failure. They won’t be successful every time they attempt something, but that’s natural and is merely an outcome, not a reflection on the child.

When things don’t work out, assure them that you’re proud of the effort, that you love them regardless of the outcome and that next time, the outcome could be different. Talk to them about the emotions they felt towards losing and what good sportsmanship looks like. Even in the face of a loss or undesired outcome, it’s important to congratulate the winner and show respect to teammates, coaches, and opponents. In addition to bolstering their self-esteem and sense of pride, this teaches them about resilience.

There are some terrific books for helping your child learn about what it means to be proud. Here are a few classics you might consider reading together:

Joy has over 20 years of experience in early childhood education. As Vice President of Education at Kiddie Academy Educational Child Care, she oversees all things curriculum, assessment, training and more. Joy earned a B.S. in Education from Salisbury University.

I always check my phone first thing in the morning. I live multiple time zones away from my hometown, so there are usually a handful of texts and emails from friends and family waiting for me, as well as notifications from my social media accounts. Scrolling through the messages, posts, and memes usually brings a smile to my face, but yesterday morning was different.

My mind went numb, and I couldn’t comprehend a post I was reading. A teenager, my daughter’s age, from her former school, lost their life. I was heartbroken. My heart was heavy for their parents, their friends, and the community. As my head began to clear, I started connecting the dots. I realized the teenager was likely a close friend of my daughter. My heart sank, and I immediately ran to her bedroom. Tears filled her eyes as she confirmed my fears. Her dear friend, who had been at our house multiple times right before we moved and with whom she still regularly communicated, was gone.

I don’t know how long we sat on her bed holding each other, crying. All I know is that sorrow surrounded us like a thick blanket as we sat there in silence. There were no words that could bring comfort at that moment.

Yesterday was the first time in my parenting journey where I was at a complete loss. Nothing had prepared me to walk my daughter through something so devastating. I had never read a book or parenting guide on picking up the pieces of my daughter’s shattered heart, nor had I watched a how-to video on explaining suicide and death to a young teenager. I think when we’re young, we know in the back of our heads that older generations will inevitably pass on and, though difficult, come to accept it as part of life. But not this. This was a wonderful young teenager. Again, I was at a complete loss.

Not knowing what to do, I let the moment and my mama instincts take over. After we let go of our embrace, I decided to let go of our day’s expectations and schedule. I contacted her school counselor, teachers, and mentors. I made her favorite comfort foods. I sat with her when she wanted me to and gave her space when she needed me to. We spent the day grieving, and I wasn’t sure how to move us forward.

I may not have known how to inch forward, but I know I am not the only one that feels this way. The devastating news rocked our home community. Friends and loved ones have been shaken to their core, and each one of us is dealing with this differently. I wanted to make sure I was doing the best thing for my grieving daughter, so I spent the majority of the day researching how to help a teenager grieve properly. I want to share two helpful resources. For the sake of our children’s mental health, I highly recommend reading both.

The first one is by Madelynn Vickers called Teen Grief 101: Helping Teens Deal with Loss. My favorite quote from the article reminds me of how important comforting your teen is. It says,

“You should find out what comforts the teen. If it’s watching the deceased person’s favorite movie over and over again, that movie better be on repeat. There are so many ways to help teenagers cope with a loss; you just have to figure out which one works best.”

The second resource was sent to me by my daughters’ counselor. It’s called Talking to Children about a Suicide LossThe article talks about the importance of speaking truthfully to your child. It says, “It might be harder to truthfully talk about the death of a loved one following suicide without leaving some information out. But not being honest can mean they may fill in the gaps with their imagination or half-truths they hear from others, which can lead to bigger issues, like anxiety. Clear and honest communication reassures children that someone will take care of them physically and emotionally. It also creates a renewed sense of safety, security and trust.”

I expect my daughter to carry the heaviness of her friend’s death with her for a while, as is the norm when facing loss. In fact, I imagine all of us in this community will be under a blanket of sorrow for a while. I hope these resources help you as they helped me.

Please know I am not an expert; I am an imperfect mom at best. But I am also an advocate for children’s mental health. While we may not know what to do in heartbreaking situations like this, these situations are the opportune time to educate ourselves and connect with our children. In fact, it’s the perfect opportunity to check in on their mental health. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, teachers, youth leaders, tutors, and coaches…please check in with the children in your life! They carry more than we realize. They deal with loneliness, academic demands, social pressure, media influence, relationship stress, and much more.

Collectively and individually, these stressors can cause anxiety as well as depression, which can become too heavy of a burden to bear. Our children need us to reassuringly take their hands and allow them to catch their breath. They need us to walk with them through this life and let them know they are not alone. They need to be assured that while life is messy, we can all get through it together.

This post originally appeared on www.jamieedelbrock.com/blog.

Jamie is married to her high school sweetheart and has three beautiful daughters. Through years of experience working with children, and raising her own, she knows how difficult parenting can be. She is an advocate for children's mental health and is best known for her creativity, optimism, and kind heart.

Photo: via Lauren Shapiro Mandel

I gave birth to my daughter on a Monday. That Friday, my mom died.

My daughter was five days old. I got a call from my Dad mid-morning, who said he was nearby and wanted to come over for a few minutes. He lived 40 minutes away. He never just happened to be nearby.

I hung up the phone, waddled to the bathroom to take care of my postpartum self, and hustled back down the hallway just as my Dad was walking through the door of our condo. He looked up but didn’t smile.

“Mom died today,” he said, offering no additional details, leaving an opening for me to say something. Anything.

But I didn’t say anything. I released a strong breath, then looked over at my baby in my husband’s arms on the couch. He was dangling a bottle of formula over the armrest, burp cloth draped over his chest, staring back at me, waiting for my reaction to news that was stunning but also a long time coming.

My mom suffered her first brain bleed when I was 10 years old. When my mom’s brain bled for the second time, I was 12, and this time she stayed in the hospital for more than four months, followed by an extensive stay in a rehab facility. When she finally came home, she wasn’t who she had always been. My mom died that summer in the hospital, though the doctors told us she had made a miraculous recovery. 

Traumatic brain injuries have a way of taking someone away while leaving them right next to you. I saw my mom next to me, in her wheelchair, slurred speech, sad eyes. But it wasn’t her at all. The person I knew, the person I needed, she no longer existed. She had become her illness. 

I lost her when I was 12, but it wasn’t until I was 33 and a new mom that I felt the finality of that loss. All those years of mourning and coping and managing, I thought those years would prepare me for this moment. But I was surprised to learn that no amount of loss can prepare you for death. 

When it was time for the funeral, my husband drove slowly into the cemetery. I had one hand near my newborn’s mouth, holding her pacifier in place, while the other hand covered my own mouth to control my tears. Sitting in the back seat of the car, staring down at my daughter, my mind was racing, replaying years of grief all at once and all over again. 

But this was a new type of grief that shook me that day in the car, and for months after. I was no longer just a daughter grieving the loss of her mother, but a mother grappling with the possibility that my daughter could one day face a similar fate. For the first time since she got sick, I saw myself in my mom. 

As my daughter’s first birthday approached, so did the anniversary of my mom’s death. That week was both happy and sad and also confusing. Of course, this week will occur every year in the years to come, and I will have to find a productive way to spend this time. I hope to be able to do that soon.

But until then, I will mark both events separately, as they are. The anniversary of my mom’s death will honor the woman I lost and then lost again. My daughter’s birthday will celebrate the beautiful, spirited, feisty little girl I brought into this world. 

And together, these events will be a reminder of who I am because of them both.

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Lauren Shapiro Mandel
Tinybeans Voices Contributor

Lauren Mandel is the daughter of Daniel Shapiro, author of the book “The Thin Ledge.” In the book Shapiro recounts his family’s difficulties with his wife's sudden but long-term illness and the family's caregiving struggle. Lauren serves as a chair for the Brain Research Foundation, in honor of her mom.