Lessons From My Second Mother's Day

First time holding my girl
7-15-12

My dearest Bon Bon,

I can't believe my second Mother's Day with you has come and (almost) gone. It seems that it was just a second ago that we found out we were expecting you. Now, in just two short months, you will be two.

This motherhood thing has certainly been an adventure. We have had our ups and downs. I have had my moments where I shone as a mom and moments where I fell flat on my face. You, my darling girl, have been a blessing from the start... even though I am fairly certain you have only slept for 17 hours total since the day you were born.

These past couple months have been hard. The hardest. I haven't been the mom I should be. There have probably been too many viewings of Frozen and too few books. I have been here, but not always present. And through it all - through the time your sweet Ganma was in the hospital and the week of her funeral, through the trip to Arlington to bury her, your Papa and me packing up my childhood home, and the extra long phone calls to your Aunt Molly, you have been an angel. Always smiling, always hugging, you have been my sunshine when the skies were so gray.

It is crazy how we find history repeating itself. My momma lost her sweet mom when I was only one year old. It was a dark December in 1985. My mom taught me a lot from that - about grief and depression, finding joy through the tears.

It has made me think a lot about other things she has taught me - things I had hoped she would help teach you. She won't have that chance now, but I hope - as she did with me - I can show you ...

1) That grief sucks. It sucks. But it is not your whole life and it won't define you forever. Even in your darkest days - and I hope those are few and far between - there will be moments of joy and laughter. And at the end, you will come out of it changed. It is up to you if that change is positive or negative. It took your Ganma a long time to overcome losing her mom - she would be the first to admit it - and of course I am still struggling with it. But there will be a time when the loss isn't your whole identity - you just have to walk through the valley.

2) That family is forever. Your dad and I will always be here for you - your backbone, your cheerleaders, your moral compass, and your home. Your Ganma was always that for me. Her house was Tara - getting back there was to regroup and refocus. We hope you always feel that way with us. We hope you understand your aunts and uncles are additional parents for you. They love you almost (ALMOST - Aunt Molly) as much as we do. Your cousins were your first siblings and, when you are older and we are gone, will know all the stories of your life from the very beginning. Cherish them. Cherish your time with them.

3) That friends can be surrogate family. Your grandparents moved a lot - all over the world - during your Papa's Army career. Your Ganma made friends wherever she went - women who she bonded with and loved, who loved her kids and whose kids she loved. At the time of her passing, she had established a "sisterhood" of fellow teachers who shared all the joys and pains of life together. They sat by her bedside for hours in the hospital. They held us as we cried and prayed for us daily. And they mourned deeply because they loved your Ganma and the relationship she had built with them. The friendships were a light in her life. In the same way, I have women in my life who I would flounder without - those that have been my friends since the days I wore sandals with socks in good old middle school and those that I have become close to through this whole journey of motherhood. You have more "aunts" than the Dugger grandkids. I hope you always feel their love and one day find your own sisterhood.

Being held by your sweet Ganma in the hospital.

4) That love is unconditional. Here is the truth baby girl: some times your aunt, uncle, and I were jerks growing up. Sometimes we were jerks as adults. Okay, it was mostly your aunt and uncle. I mean, I was pretty perfect. Don't ask them that - but it is true. Regardless, she loved us anyway. She forgave us. And we forgave her. If you are going to love someone, love them. 

5) That you should love your neighbor as you love yourself. Your Papa will teach you the verse just like he taught it to me every Sunday growing up. Your Ganma never recited it to me but I saw her live it every single day. I saw it when she came home weeping over one of her kids at school and the cards they had been dealt in life. I saw it when she left in the middle of the night to comfort a friend in need or to pray by a sick bedside. I saw it when she sent care packages and cards to people she hadn't seen in decades so that they always remembered they had someone in their corner. I saw it in the countless hours she gave to her church, her family, her friends, and her community. I hope you have her heart and eyes for those around you.

6) That if it is after Labor Day or before Easter, you better have stockings on those legs.

7) That it is okay to admit when you are not good at something and ask for help. For your Ganma - this would apply to anything that plugged in or required some sort of Internet connection. Ask your daddy one day about the time she called him because she couldn't figure out how to turn her computer off.

8) That it is okay to take a break. Every semester in high school, your Ganma would let me take one day off of school to float in the pool, watch Days of Our Lives (which will probably have the same storyline when you are 16 as it did when I was), and just escape. Once, when I was pregnant with you, she offered to write a note to my boss - MY BOSS - to let them know I needed a day to get a pedicure and look at baby furniture. I declined, but it was a good reminder that every now in then we all need a me day. I hope you remember.

9) That every day can be magical. Your Ganma tried to make the most ordinary days extraordinary for you and your cousins either through special trips outside to catch fireflies or letting you each get private time reading stories with her. It was rarely something big or flashy - it was just the magic of being with her and being loved by her. I hope you always feel that and make those you love feel that way. Remember each day can be as wonderful and surprising as you want it to be. And, of course, that only boring people are boring.

10) That if you don't know how to cook something, just saute it with Worcester sauce and garlic. Okay, I hope you actually learn a lot more about cooking but that was your Ganma's go to regardless of occasion and meat being used. She would have loved showing you how to mince garlic and explain to you that it is the best ingredient of anything ever.

Most of all, I hope I can show you what kind of mother she was - kind, fun, strong, and fierce - through the kind of mother I hope to be to you. I love you sweet girl. Thanks for making me a Momma.