I can’t tell you how hard it was being in a hospital this exact week a year after I was in the hospital with my angel mother. The white board. The hospital bed. The wrist tags. The curtains. The bathroom toilet. Nurses names flooded my head. More things I pushed to a pocket of my brain spilled out and over to my direct line of thinking. 
Except I was here for a happy reason. I’m here bringing a new life into the same cruel world that made me say goodbye to my mom. With such a full and hopeful heart, I couldn’t help but notice the anxiety that set in my first night alone in the hospital. My tender little fragile heart was still stained with such extreme sadness since I knew my mom wasn’t here. That she wouldn’t be coming with 18 outfits for Ace, a pound of rigatoni for me, asking me “Bree! Wanna beer?” Ugh. My heart.
This really isn’t a sad post. It’s actually a happy one, aaaand my birth story is kind of cool. Because I know the angels involved. I know who was handling this sweet beautiful boy before he was placed in my hands. I know the love and I know the light that he was surrounded by. Much more sophisticated love than I can even understand, cocooned him before I get to even try to match how big that love is. Because my mom was loving him. For 41 weeks, little Ace Christopher got to meet and be molded by the same soul and be touched by the same pair of strong and tender hands that once held me. Everything that surrounded my pregnancy all made sense in the very moment he entered my world. 

Last Thursday night, I had found a Father’s Day card mixed in with blank cards in a drawer, that had my mom’s handwriting in it. Of course, things like this still take my breath away and I opened it and realized my mom had written it to Dan. “Happy First Father’s Day Dan! You’ll be a great daddy!” I brought it downstairs and gave it to my husband and he simply said, “he’s coming on Father’s Day” and I said really? Ya think so? And he said “babe I haven’t gotten a sign from your mom yet, and this is her telling me ya know since she can’t physically be there, she’s telling me I got you Dan!” We both kind of filled up with tears, and as he set the card out atop the microwave, as if he just received a fresh new card for Father’s Day 2017, the tin foil print on the front of the card caught a glimpse of light and almost glowed, and that’s when I knew Dan was right. 

Fast forward to Saturday morning, and my water broke. Fast forward past an at home pedicure, a swift walk around the neighborhood, two dogs that were almost given away, size two diapers in my own underwear, nana and papa coming in to save the day with a crock pot full of goodness, a surprise show up of my brother and his wife with my sissy and dad at my front door later, and we were on our way to the hospital and our home was full of the people we love putting our first bruiser to bed as we went off into the night to add our new little boy to the world.
We parked and walked into a sleepy Saratoga hospital where we were greeted by lots of smiles. By midnight I had a dose of statol to “relax me” and within seconds I felt like I was on the comet at Great Escape. Or the rotor, still unsure. Dan was pissing his pants laughing at me and I was happy to be able to make him smile. Let me just stop right here to give this man all the praise and all the glory. During my pregnancy he has made me breakfast lunch and dinner, mopped our floors, remembered to water the flowers, given me the last bite, bought me endless amounts of skor bars and iced Dunkin waters, created quite the relationship with our mail lady over how many packages show up at our house in preparation for baby #2 during a major renovation, worked sun up to sun down and then would come home and work on the house, the yard, our master bedroom, and still have it in him for a little more of my honey do punch list, tubby and teeth with the first boy, and then usually passing out in the middle of story time with Mav. Since we’ve been home as a family of 4, this has all continued plus a newborn with all that entails, and in the midst of it all I forgot just how much you love your husband after you bring a life into the world together like a team. And that’s what we are. LOVE YOU BOO! And love what we’ve done.
Ok so statol was wild, an hour or two in I asked for an epidural and before I knew it I had a peanut ball between my legs, I was so exhausted and the midwife came in and said “oh! his head is right there let’s have a baby!” 
I felt completely calm and in total control. I had 4 women cheering me on in the most gentle and enthusiastic way and my best friend to my right saying what I needed to hear when it needed to be said, sharing looks and reassuring me every moment. I pushed 4 sets of 3, and on my second to last round of pushing I looked at Dan and he looked at me and we both started to cry. Because we couldn’t believe we were almost done. (Hello I was in labor for 43 hours with Mav, and pushed for almost 3 hours and had 4 black eyes and couldn’t walk for two days. To say I was scared to death to do this again is the most grandiose understatement ever) In just under 15 minutes we had ourselves a slice of heaven here on earth, gently resting over my heart. I was finished. It went fast and it was beautiful. I was so relieved. We had our newest member, we were together and it wasn’t even 10am on Father’s Day. 

Father’s Day last year my mother was put on life support. And one full circle of a year later I was bringing a brand new life into this world. As awful as it was to be alone that first night in the hospital and seeing the dates coincide with dates I thought I’d forever hate, I felt my mom. I know she was there right next to me. She knew every emotion I was feeling in that moment and in an instant I felt warmth inside, and all around me and then I fell asleep. I woke up to a new world on Monday. A world that felt a little less cruel, a little less evil. I woke up knowing I’ve created my family with the most amazing man. We did it together, intentionally and with great love and care. My son was in love with his new best friend, and all the weight I’ve been carrying around was gone in that moment. 
Thank you Ace Christopher for choosing me as your mother. You came to me exactly when God intended you to. I promise to keep your mind full of happiness, your soul free and wild, and your heart full of pure and innocent love. And mama, thanks for giving me your strength when I need it the most. 

Let me tell you a story about June 8th. Once upon a time Dan and I had set out to get married at one of our favorite places on the Jersey Shore. It was called Martell’s Waters’ Edge and it was your quintessential beach town wedding venue. Complete with rocking tables that swayed when the docks moved, panoramic views of the Barnegat bay, a baby grand piano, an atrium/greenhouse style room for happy hour, and all the beach rock, drift wood and sand a girl could ever imagine for pictures. The view was beautiful and the water front aisle I was supposed to walk down was wind-y and paved with more beautifulness I could have ever dreamed up. Our deposit was down, our save the dates were out and we were in the thick of planning a beach wedding from afar. Until hurricane Sandy hit and washed away this beautiful place with so many of my very wedding dreams. We wound up changing the town from Bayville to Glenville. The state from New Jersey to New York. And the date from June 8th to June 7th. We married at the Light House at Waters’ Edge. Coincidences? Absolutely not. 
As we approach the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing I can’t help but feel a different, very hollowing sense of nostalgia. I feel helpless in trying to feel good about this day in particular as this was the day my mother entered the hospital. We were told the most terrifying, earth shattering news, but we clung to hope and our faith. The days’ events were brutal. Though not as brutal as her last day on earth. I can’t help but use my sense of spirituality to determine now why I was never to wed on June 8th. Because who would ever want to share such a happy day with such saddening and life altering news. If it was God, an act of nature, or a contract I signed with somebody up above before I arrived here that this was my life plan, I’ll never know. What I do know is this is another one of those moments that haven’t made sense to me until almost exactly a year later. Especially today, when I saw this picture on my Facebook memories asking for prayers and white healing light. 

What a beautiful, wonderful mountain of a woman she was.
Flashes of her breathing pop in and out of my head. When we were asked to stand on the other side of the curtain, as if that would protect us somehow. I wish they just asked us to leave the hospital at that point. Dan and I had spent the night, her final night, the night before. Somehow when they told us we had to leave at 6am for a little while, I found my way back home to my parents’ house and Dan found his way to our baby. Before I knew it, it was 10am and I was in the shower getting ready to head back to the hospital. I heard my mother clear as day inside my head talking to me. I hate that she couldn’t talk. I felt helpless that day. Like I had been beat at the most excruciating game. Like I was watching a puppy get kicked to death. Like I wanted to cry because it was just so unfair that there was nothing I could do but hold her hand, sing to her as she took her last breaths and try my hardest to save this in a part of my brain that one day I could shovel out and dump away into the garbage because nobody should have to witness something so absolutely horrifying. I wanted to protect her and everyone in that room watching. And listening. Listening was just as hard. I remember trying to drown out the sounds and that’s why I sang. Try as hard as I might, these images and sounds are still at the tip of my brain. Some nights I have to keep my eyes open so that my brain can stop thinking about it. I ask her to take these images from me, and I know if she could she would. And I try to forget them myself, but things that disturbing aren’t so soon forgotten. 

Today I stand strong as a different person then I was almost a year ago. I’m broken, and cynical, I’m stronger and optimistic. I wish happiness and health for other people and my heart actually breaks when I hear of anyone losing someone close to them. I offer different variations of comfort now. Unfortunately I know what to do in these situations of absolute despair. Today I still shake my head in disbelief when I make the realization for the 349th day in a row that my mother is gone. Today I still feel like I need her here. Today I mourn my mother in ways that are positive for me, and for the people who understand what that means. 
Any day now, I will bring new life into this world. A new soul, one that I’m certain my mom is holding right now. A little tiny soul that has been touched by my mother. What a gift for me that God has blessed me with; to witness the complete circle of life, in the same month, almost down to the exact day, inside the same year I lost my favorite girl.

Outside our window, there’s the loudest cricket tonight. One little lone ranger who made it through the rain. The song this insect is singing made me realize that 8 years ago today my husband asked me to be his girlfriend 💗 it was late and the grass was wet. my teeth were chattering as they often did when I was around him, and the frogs were croaking in his mom’s front yard. My world became a different place. The ground shifted below my feet and my heart did a dance of love. It’s crazy how memories have a way of sneaking up on you. Perfectly and just when you need a reminder of how magical love is. 8 years later, 2 homes, 2 dogs, and almost two children, and 4 days before our fourth wedding anniversary, our love feels so new yet so familiar and broken in. I’m a lucky girl 🙏 I never knew what we would build together, but I knew we would always take pride in US. We don’t have it all together, but I know that our son is a dream, and we’re about to bring another life into this world, our house is a home, and our love is my favorite love on earth 😘💜