This blog is dedicated in loving memory of my mother, Barbara Tomlinson. I actually drafted this first blog post not long after she passed and I was struggling with my grief. I realized later that maybe continuously blogging about my deceased mother might negatively perpetuate my attitude. I understand journaling is a good way to get through traumatic times, but I didn't want to feel the need to keep coming back to a platform to talk about my grief. The post below is a very real depiction of my inner thoughts at that time when I was in the trenches of grief. The final paragraph titled "Accepting Reality," I've finalized today, January 2nd, 2021.
Five months ago I lost you forever. There are days where I can't believe it's already been five months and there are days where I can't believe its only been five months. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't want to scroll through my phone's contacts to find "Mom" and hit "call."
February 15th, 2017- Denying Reality
It had been a rough two months. I spent as much time as I possibly could draining your wisdom and stories of the past. I knew it wouldn't be long before the inevitable occurred. Watching you succumb to the cancer, watching your body purge everything you put in it, and you slowly dying was the hardest thing I've ever done. My eyes tear up now as I write this, because you were my heart. As you suffered, my heart broke with each milestone toward death. When Bob and I came home from our Valentines date and saw you before we went to bed, I knew it was a matter of hours. Your breathing was so shallow and you were just resting so peacefully. The morning of the fifteenth, as I lay beside your desperate body, using all of it's might to get those last breaths in, I was beside myself. I couldn't believe you were really gone. I couldn't look at your body, because it wasn't you. I looked up out the window after your last breath and the grey clouds parted and the sun came out. I felt like I was watching a movie. This couldn't be happening to us. Not our family. You were the center; you were the glue. When the funeral home assistants wheeled your body out of the bedroom and into their vehicle, I just kept saying over and over in my head, "This can't be happening. This isn't happening." I saw all of this coming for months, in yet, when it actually happened I couldn't accept it? Staying strong, trying to keep a level head for Dad. Sure, I was sad, but I couldn't imagine losing the love of my life. Dad needed the support. I tried to keep it together. I know you went to heaven and didn't look back. That's the reality- I couldn't accept it. Not yet.
March, 2017- Pregnant and Angry
Being 31 weeks pregnant at this point, I had to get back to Maryland to check on baby Samantha's progress. I was tired and exhausted and no one told me that the third trimester was an awful lot like the first. I wanted to talk to you about it all. I wanted to show you the sonogram picture showing that she was breech! I wanted to tell you about the different nursery decorations I put up and how excited I was, but you were gone. I was crying almost every night in my bed before I fell asleep. I was so used to talking to you 2-3 times a day. I missed hearing your voice, getting your advice, or just talking about silly stuff and our dreams! I, honestly, was mad. It wasn't fair. You were so young and healthy. Nothing was wrong, except the cancer. Had you not got cancer, you may have lived to be 90! I kept thinking over and over, "It's not fair! What about Dad? It's not fair!"
April, 2017- What if I bargained?
Getting to the end of my pregnancy, a c-section was scheduled for April 25th because Samantha hadn't turned. On that day, I was scared out of my mind, but Bob, dad, and Patty were there to support me. There were a few times I looked over at dad and thought about how you should have been there beside him. After I was prepped for surgery and before they sent me into the operating room, the GYN did a quick sonogram to double check and Samantha had turned! She was head down! I was sent home and told to wait it out. The first thing I wanted to do when I got out of the hospital that day was to call you and tell you what had happened, oh...wait... I couldn't. All kinds of emotions were running through me that day. Sad that I couldn't welcome my baby to the world that day, happy that she did what she was supposed to, and upset that you weren't there. I started asking myself, "Had I questioned mom more on her stomach issues would she have gone to the doctor sooner and they would have caught the cancer at an earlier stage allowing her to be here for her granddaughters birth?" "What could I have done to have saved her?" "Why didn't I do more to push her to get treatment?" "If I had treated her better as a teenager, would God have given me more time with her as an adult?" I asked God stupid questions, nonsensical questions, hoping it would bring you back. Who was I kidding? You were gone. I knew you had gone to a better place, I was just being selfish and wanted you back.
May 10, 2017- Tick Tock Baby Clock
May 2nd came and gone. I had gotten very very large. The baby was getting big and heavy in my belly. Her movements slowed down as she was running out of space. I was exhausting myself from walking to the bathroom and to the couch. I couldn't do anything. I got to the point where I had to just stop cleaning and doing laundry. I knew I'd have a lot of work ahead of me after the baby was born, but I was just done. Finally, I woke up at 5:30am on May 9th feeling some cramps. They ramped up and then wore off. I knew, this isn't a stomach ache- this is LABOR. What was the first thing I wanted to do that morning? Of course, call you. I called Dad. Told him it was the beginning and I conveniently had a doctors appointment that afternoon. Bob's mom spent the day with me. All through the day, the contractions got more frequent and more intense. Then finally in the middle of the night, at 12am on May 10th, it was time for me to go to the hospital. I called Dad and told him we were going to the hospital and he jumped out of bed and got on the road. I labored through the night and cried a lot wishing you were with me. One nurse was so nice to me when I explained how you had just passed in February and I just wished you were there. I had them give me the epidural at 3cm and slept for a few hours. The contractions slowed down. Dad got there at 8:30am, stayed for a little bit, but checked into a nearby hotel and went to sleep. They broke my water to see if things would progress. He came back early afternoon and I was only dilated a little more. Then he went out again to...well, I really don't know where he went. Not really sure. Finally, they gave me pitocin (an induction drug) to try to get things rolling. My contractions started to ramp up good. The epidural had wore off and I needed more. I couldn't feel a thing after that. Then the doctor came in, we did a few practice pushes, and it was time. Dad showed up after a few pushes and then he got right by my side helping me through it all. Bob was looking into my eyes telling me it would be okay and that I was doing great. Bob's mom was at the top helping me get the oxygen mask on my face after each push because Samantha's heart rate would drop. Finally, after an hour of pushing, I felt the pressure and she was born! My beautiful, sweet, precious girl was finally resting on my chest, while in the background You Are My Sunshine was playing from my phone's playlist. I kissed her nasty wet head, but I didn't care. I was just so happy for the first time in months! Guess who she looked like? She looks a lot like your baby pictures, mom! May 10th, 2017 6:56pm Samantha Kay Adams- 9lbs. 2 oz., 21" long.
May-June 2017- Memories Depress
We got her home- and this is when the sadness came. I was happy but exhausted. Trying to get used to a new baby. I just couldn't help but cry almost every single time I sang to her or babbled to her. I was doing everything you did with me when I was a baby. I sang Feed the Birds, Baby Mine, You Are My Sunshine, and A Bushel And A Peck. I tickled her and made her laugh when it was time to change her diaper. I smile with her. I'm starting to bond with my daughter, just as you did with me. I cry a lot. I'm sad. I miss you all the time.
July, 2017- January,2021-Accepting Reality
Mom, it's been 3 1/2 years since I first started this letter. Each day gets easier, but the heartache still hurts the same when I think of you. Thankfully, I have had a very cute distraction, named Sammi. Oh mama, she is a beautiful, smart, talented, funny, persnickety, and a spunky little girl. She looks like me in the face and I think the rest of her is from Bob. She has such a great personality. I went back to work at AWF and she's been learning so much at her preschool. Life is chugging along and the reality is, it just goes by way too fast. I'm so glad the Lord brought you home to heaven prior to all the ridiculous things I've seen happening in the world over the last couple of years. Looking back on it all, I really do think it was His timing for you and I know you're happy where you are. I love you and miss you. I'm looking forward to seeing you again one day.
