Mother...

Mother. What I always dreamed of becoming. Mother. What I now am, but no longer have.

It was the afternoon of September 3, 2019. I had just finished teaching for the day and was finishing up some work in my office. My phone rang. It was my dad.

"Hey Daddy-o!"

He was crying.

"Annie - I just got home and found your mom dead."

Panic arose inside of me as I thought 'Not my mom. No. He must mean Grandma. I'm getting married in 10 days. She's supposed to be there.'

"MY mom?"

"Yes Annie. Your mom. She's in the tub and the water's cold."

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"They're on their way. But they're not going to be able to do anything. She's blue."

"But... what am I supposed to do? What do I do?"

"Just get home."

So began one of the hardest journeys of my life. Saying goodbye to my mom right before my wedding was something I never imagined I would have to do. I always thought she'd be "old" when she passed. I thought I had more time. Isn't that what we always think?

I went through the normal grieving process - not believing it was real, being angry that it was, and then the devastation setting in. I tried to go back to life as normal as best I could. We followed through with the wedding and went on our honeymoon. My husband was wonderful in helping me grieve. He was understanding about my need for space while also needing him with me.

In December, we found out we were pregnant. We had been trying and we were excited, but there was also a part of me that was sad. Sad because I couldn't call my mom to tell her. Sad because my child was going to grow up without a grandmother. Sad because I would never be able to call her for advice or hear her stories about when she was pregnant. I imagined the memories she would no longer be able to create with her grandchildren. I imagined sleepovers at Grammie's house, trips to Disney, and admonishing her for giving them too much sugar - things that were no longer a possibility.

My dad was elated when I told him. He cried and said, "Oh Annie! Your mom would be so proud!" He did his best to share stories about when she was pregnant, but of course, it wasn't the same. I longed to hear her voice telling me those stories.

Our daughter was born 7 weeks and 3 days early on July 21, 2020. We endured a 30 day NICU stay - in the middle of a pandemic. The isolette that my daughter spent her first days in was called a Giraffe. April the Giraffe was a big deal in the few years before my mom passed. My mom and I watched April have her baby together. She started buying baby clothes for my nephew that were adorned with giraffes. I believe that my mom was there in the form of that isolette. Her arms were the ones holding my daughter and helping her survive those first few days until she learned to breathe room air. She was monitoring her heartbeats, her pulse, and her feedings. And she was there with me every hour that I spent next to that isolette.

The idea that my daughter would not only never meet her grandmother, but would never even have anything from her crushed me. A friend recommended that I make a blanket for my daughter using some of my mom's clothing, but my dad had already donated most of the clothes before I was able to go through them. I did, however, find one shirt. One white shirt with lemons on it. A cousin gave me some onesies that my mom had given to her son as a gift. They're adorned with giraffes.

My mom's sewing machine is still set up in the spare room at my parents house. I plan to use that (and her sewing scissors), along with the white lemon shirt and giraffe onesies to make a "stuffie" for my daughter to snuggle. The chosen pattern is a bunny (a giraffe would be too hard for my unskilled hands). The main body will be made with my mom's shirt. The legs, arms, and ears will be made with the onesies. We will add some yellow fabric as an offset. My daughter will have a piece of Grammie's love to carry with her forever.