As the sun stirred me awake, I did my best to resist its presence and bury my head underneath my stack of pillows. I intended to deep six myself until Monday. Today is your 15 month birthday; today is the 1 year shit-o-versary of the day you started chemo; today is also Mother’s Day. A power packed, heartache trifecta for one day.
Before I could come up with a plan on how to best avoid the day, my phone buzzed. It was a text wishing me a ‘good as can be, Mother’s Day’. A mix of happy and sad tears spontaneously fell from my eyes, rolled down my cheeks, and dropped on top of Giraffey’s soft little head. (Poor Giraffey.) Seeing the word “Mother” directed at me, made my heart smile. I wasn’t quite sure if anyone considers me a Mom anymore. I know that you do – and that I do…but, the rest of this crazy daisy, mixed-up world seems to be all sorts of messed up lately. The most beautiful part of the text, however, was not the contents of the message – rather from whom it was sent: the only other person in this universe who truly understands the depth and breadth of my love for you.
With two pieces of my heart put a little closer together, I got out of bed and almost skipped down the hall to your bedroom. I will always start and end my days in there. Even if I move far, far away – and live in 12 different houses, you will always have a bedroom…and it will always be my sacred garden. I hope you make Momma’s heart and soul your sacred garden. As I gazed out your window, I said aloud at least a dozen times, “Thank you for making me your Momma.” This was not how I was supposed to parent you, Paxton. Not even close. But it is how I must. So I will continue to do my very best to keep you alive, present, and vibrant as you would be if you were here.
After my run – which went shockingly well, I headed out to finish shopping for Dafne. Remember our little Princess Warrior? Her birthday was on May 7th. She thought it was quite special that your “D-day” was one day after her birthday. So, Momma made a promise not to forget her special day. Dr. Mortland and I still conspire ways to kick the shit outta cancer; I always knew we’d be friends on the “outside”. I desperately wish I could bring you to see her, or show her updated pictures as I told her stories aplenty about her “Lil’ Bud”. Nonetheless, she told me that Dafne is checking into the HOT Unit on Thursday…for 30 days. I still don’t have the courage to ask about her diagnosis, or her prognosis. It’s none of my business; and it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she gets better. I bought Dafne all things, pink, sparkly, and completely radical. I probably went overboard – but, I couldn’t help myself. It is therapeutic to shop for pink things. In this case, it’s especially therapeutic because I am doing something to defy cancer’s punk ass. Further, I can make someone happy, without making myself want to puke because I should be buying it all for you. Please know, as my son, you would’ve been secure and smooth enough to wear pink (and looked totally fly, I may add). But, you wouldn’t have wanted purses, lip gloss, hats, boas, bows, sparkles, wands, and Hello Kitty.
Apparently, that adventure used up all my energy for today, because I wasn’t able to fake my way through much more. I tried to have lunch with Nana, but the food just wouldn’t go down. I thought about getting my nails done – but it seemed so artificial and unimportant. I considered meeting an old friend for drinks, but my heart wasn’t in it. Instead, I went to sleep. When I woke up, nighttime was here. I am relieved this day is almost done. Tomorrow won’t be any different…every day is just another day. But, today was a little over the top challenging – even for a girl pretending to be the bravest Warrior Momma of all-time.
Thank you for making me your Momma. I hope against all hope, I am doing you justice. I watch for your signs; I listen for your whispers. Every single moment, of every single day, I wish with all of my weary might that you are still with me. Today was not happy…not even close. But, it was Mother’s Day – and, I am so very happy that I am Paxton Bowe Andrews’ Momma.
I love you. I miss you.
Stay with me, sweet boy.