Not only is it Mother's Day on Sunday, but Saturday is May 11, 2013.....Catelyn died on September 11, 2011. That means that this particular month marks 20 months since Catelyn died.
Catelyn was 20 months old when she died..... (okay, so she was 20 months and 13 days old, but those extra few days, which I would usually argue on behalf of, don't really feel all that important right this moment).
It feels so unbearable that, after this weekend, her time of death out numbers her time of living. (Yes, it could still be argued that she was in the womb for about 8 months, so she was closer to 28 months living, but again, that isn't a comfort.)
My heart aches.
It still feels like yesterday that I held her.
It's 7:09 right now. When Catelyn was alive, I would we would end our night by cuddling and watching Wheel of Fortune. Just before the final round, I would tell her, "okay, it's nigh-nigh" and she would rush over to our staircase and energetically rattle the child safety gate that prevented her from taking the stairs alone. We'd get upstairs, and I'd put her in her jammies, we'd snuggle and watch the final individual puzzle, and then I'd carry her to her room and lay her down. Before I'd leave, I'd sing her the bedtime song my mom made up for me when I was a little tyke.
"Time to go to sleep Catelyn. Dream a little dream Catelyn. When you wake up in the morning, the sun will shine brightly on you."
I can hear her little voice, and her fun jabbering. It seems impossible that she could be dead for 20 months.
When the movie "The Wedding Singer" came out, I adored it. I still have most of the movie memorized. When I think of how much living a life without Catelyn growing up in front of my eyes hurts, all I can think of is a scene with Drew Barrymore (Julia) & Adam Sandler (Robbie):
Julia: Okay, so it was your first wedding back. Of course, things are gonna be a little shaky.
Robbie: A little shaky? I hate weddings. I hate the bride, I hate the groom, I want them to be miserable 'cause that's what I am.
Now, please understand that I don't want to see anyone else as miserable as I am, but at the same time, I can't stand to see people celebrating and loving life and enjoying each second.
The reality, which I often lose sight of, is that everyone has something that is causing them pain in their lives. I am not the only one. Just because someone enjoys Mother's Day or Halloween or Birthdays or Christmas doesn't mean that there aren't other days that they struggle with.
I think it comes down to the fact that it's hard to know how to find a balance between feeling like I've lost everything, and feeling like it's okay to move forward. It's hard to just "be" on Mother's Day. I don't feel like a Mother, and remembering that I was one hurts.
So many friends and family members work so hard to include me on Mother's Day, but I honestly can't fathom how I could still be a mother when my toddler died.