When I was young I wanted to be a singer. I wanted to travel and live in the fast lane and not have any obligations. My dolls had a nanny and there was a boyfriend in my imaginary life. No husband. Flash forward several loves, a failed marriage and I am engaged to a man who wants a family. My life changed from “will I have kids” to “when will I have kids”.
No one knows how they will be as a parent until you are one. My pregnancy was difficult. The energy of my unborn son raved havoc on my health, becoming gestational diabetic and sentencing me to bed from 6 months on. I became addicted to soap operas and had conversations about my favorite characters with my growing belly.
At 6 pounds, 4 ounces, this little man became my purpose. I relished in my new role. I read every book, took every course, I even started a mom and baby program in my community. He was my little buddy. We cooked together, watched Days of our Lives together, played together. He was my sidekick.
When his baby sister came along, four years later, he became my co-parent. And along the journey, his friends became my ‘other kids’. I became “Mama Fish” and both my children have shared their friends with me. I am lucky.
When Zane was killed our home filled with dozens of these kids, racing over to hold us and to cry together. And they have stayed in touch. I receive cards and texts on special occasions and on not so special days…just checking in with me. They share how they honor my son and how they miss him. They share new things in their lives and although it hurts that Zane is not here to experience these same things, I am grateful that they want me to see how they are turning their grief into good mourning.
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