I don’t know what I expected my pregnancy would look like. I knew what it wouldn’t look like. It wouldn’t look like me going out with my friends at a moment’s notice and having enough cocktails to warrant a Lyft ride home. It wouldn’t look like me doing a whole lot of acting, unless the role called for a rotund and slightly agitated, spitfire of a woman. It wouldn’t look like anything I could have ever imagined or tried to imagine. Particularly in this last estimation, I got it right.
We all have our own path to baby. We all experience ups and downs; moments where we are so unbelievably excited about the adventure we’re on, and moments where we realize that life will never be the same and it’s going to be at least 5 years until we can decently enjoy happy hour again. My path began with my husband and I actively trying to get pregnant for about 8 months. We had just begun our foray into the fertility world when one morning the test strip read positive. It was exciting, thrilling, sick to your stomach scary, a relief that getting pregnant was actually possible, and though I’m desperately trying to describe the feeling…it was indescribable.
We could not have timed the pregnancy more perfectly. Within about 4 months of conceiving we would be on our way to Ireland. This was to be an anniversary trip that we had spent a lot of time planning and in which we were further celebrating by treating both of our moms to the trip as well as traveling with a few friends and other members of our family; 10 in all! While I couldn’t indulge in the whiskey or the Guinness, I would be on to the second trimester of pregnancy and done with the turbulent and exhausting first trimester.
While my path to baby began at conception, my road to mommy actually began on that trip to Ireland. It was on the first night of our stay in Ireland that my mother very suddenly and very unexpectedly passed away. It is important to note that my mother was and still is my world, my soul mate, the love of my life. I am an only child, and since we all have our rocky childhood stories, I’ll spare you mine, but I will say that my mother and I came through it war buddies.
My mother, Marietta, stood 5’3”. She had a heart that was bigger than her little body could contain. She loved unconditionally, she giggled often, she was the kindest soul that ever was. I called her my Munchkin and I encouraged others to do so….and she loved it. I fawned over her. I made her laugh. I adored her with absolutely all my might. When she left this world, a part of me went with her. This loss was compounded by the fact I was 4 months pregnant with my first child; my mother’s first grandchild, and now I was an orphan. (My father, with whom my relationship was rocky and unconventional, passed away 6 years ago) I found myself on this journey to becoming a mother, yet I was motherless.
Once you become pregnant, you start to paint a picture of what you think the world of baby will look like. You spend 10 months contemplating, planning, and visualizing. At this point, I only had about 4 months of visualizing down, and while the picture was fuzzy, a few things were certain; my hubs would be there and my mom would be there. It was at this moment of loss that my perception of pregnancy and motherhood, forever changed. The person who was meant to coach me through it all, regale me with stories of when I was a babe, tell me the similarities between my baby self and this new beautiful baby, talk me through the moments where I want to pull my hair out, cuddle my new babe like only an adoring Grandma could…was gone; gone from the picture I still held firmly in my mind. (This is something I still struggle with, by the way. Sometimes I walk into a room where my baby and my hubs are, and it takes my breath away when I don’t see my mom there with them. I expect her to be there. I need her to be there. She was part of my picture.)
The next few months following my moms passing were a blur. I had a funeral to plan and a house to pack up and sell. Thank God I am surrounded with some of the most amazing human beings who have ever walked the Earth. It is with their love, support, and endless help it was all made possible. The funeral happened. The house was packed up. The house, my childhood home, was sold. All done with a growing babe inside of my burgeoning belly.
I will also note that at the time of my mom’s passing, my pregnancy was not common knowledge. My family and several close friends knew, but it was not known to the whole of Facebook just yet. It was at the funeral service, when I got up to speak about my mother, that I was able to share the news with a room full of people who had gathered to say goodbye to a woman they loved with all their hearts. It was a beautiful thing to share this gift with them. I was able to celebrate the fact my mother knew she was to have a granddaughter before she left this world, and knowing that made her wonderful light shine even more brightly.
Once I got back to LA, I got into therapy right away. This was essential for me, for my survival. I had been in therapy, off and on, since I was 14. It is a safe place for me, as long as I find the right person to serve as my guide. The therapy this time around has been more transformative than any I have experienced thus far. Perhaps because I was dealing with something that had already begun to change who I was. It was through therapy that I was able to give voice to the fears that were echoing loudly throughout my being: How do I mother, when I’m lost without my own? How do I balance grief and joy? HOW DO I DO THIS?
I do not have all the answers. I’ve stumbled upon a few, unearthed others, and am still searching for more. Sometimes the answers have found me and presented themselves in the amazingly selfless deeds and wisdom my friends and family have bestowed upon me in the last 8 months.
I am still angry. I am still sad. I still want my mom….
But I have a baby. I have a beautiful, amazing, brilliant little girl. She saved my life on July 19th, 2016 and she has saved my life every day since. She gives me purpose. She makes me smile. She makes this journey — this road of grief and mourning and healing and repair — a lot less tragic.
My mother is gone but her spirit stays alive in the smile of my daughter and in the stories my hubs and I will share with her about her wonderfully giving, kind, funny Grandma Munchkin.
My life continues because of Thomasin Marietta Tripp. She is my world, my soul mate, the love of my life.
Bekah — Guest Writer
Wonderful, Bekah. Your writing is beautiful. And your message is so heatfelt. You are one tough gal. Your courage and fortitude and love are worthy of the Heroine’s journey. Blessings. Win F
Hey Win,
Thank you so much for reading and writing this beautiful note! My heart is full. Sending love your way!
Oh Bekah, This is lovely. Don’t know that you remember me, but we met at Paige & Drew’s wedding and have seen each other another handful of times while Paige and Drew were in Sierra Madre. Your writing in and of itself is beautiful. But your courage to write this is even more beautiful. Sending energy for continued strength and love.
Sue Levoe
Hello Sue! Of course, and thank you so much for writing and reaching out. Your words were lovely and incredibly kind. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Perfectly said
Thank you so much Donna!
Bekah, You do not know me but I knew your mom. She was close friends with my sister Kathy, sister-in-law Kay and family friend Margo. This was beautifully written. It really touched my heart. We lost my mother to Alzheimer’s when my children were quite young and they have little memory of her. And while I still miss her and wish she were here when I am most in need of comfort I know that she is with us in spirit. I can tell you that the pain will lessen as the days and years go by. When you are looking for stories about Marietta doing silly, crazy things with her friends I am sure that Margo can give you many to tell your daughter. I remember her fondly and will never forget the sound of her laugh.
Thanks you so much for reading and reaching out Liz. I always loved my mom’s stories about their group of friends. They were life long bonds and it was an inspiration how their love and friendship spanned the ages. I am so sorry for your loss as well and you are absolutely right. Her spirit, my mom’s spirit, they are all around us….but I do miss that laugh ❤
Bekah, posts on Facebook tempt me to skim by and look only at the pictures. This one was a valuable read. No matter what the circumstances, losing your mom is very hard. This one especially tough. But you have managed to express yourself in a positive way and weather the storm. It’s what we women must do. You have provided inspiration to others who are facing a loss. That’s a great step toward healing.
My mother lost her father while her mother was still pregnant with her. I have thought many times of how it must have inspired her to be the best mom in the world to us so that we would have a happy childhood.
I’m sure TT will grow up a strong, confident, and passionate woman, just like her mom. And you will relish every moment because you live life to the fullest. Keep up the good work. Everyone is so proud of you.
Jill, thank you so much for this thoughtful and lovely comment. The loss is so intense however so much beauty can come from darkness, it’s all in how you process it. Your mom sounds like an absolute warrior. I am so sorry for her loss. Ut it sounds like she passed on abundant love and a brilliant understanding about love and loss. Thank you again. Your words warmed my heart.
Thank you for sharing your story. Hugs from Nebraska!
Thank you for the hugs Katie! And I am sending some California ones right back to you!
You will never know how much comfort your open, honest, beautiful words will bring to others.
Thank you so much Rosemarie. It is an honor to share Munchkin’s memory.
What a beautiful story and love letter to your mother. I lost my mom 4 years ago when my daughter was 4 months old. I am absolutely certain that my mom made sure that I had my daughter here with me before her passing to ensure that I had someone to continue the amazing mother/daughter bond that I had with her. My daughter absolutely saved my life and gave me a reason to wake up every morning, smile, etc. I am now in my third trimester, expecting a baby boy in June. 4 years later and I still can’t believe she won’t ever get to meet this baby. I do know she is here with us every day though, and I see her in my daughter. She was my best friend, my world, and just because she is no longer here doesn’t change that. Sending you and your daughter and husband lots of love. Enjoy her just as your mom enjoyed you–she is a precious gift.
Dear Allyson,
Your comment brought tears to my eyes as so many of your words were echoed in my heart. I am so sorry for your loss. It is such a tremendous thing to balance life and death in such close proximity. I felt the same way about my little girl…that somehow my mom had orchestrated it so I would have this new little soul when she left this world; as I truly feel that’s the only way I made it through. Congratulations to you on your dear daughter and also on your new little boy!! Our moms our indeed with us on this wonderful journey that is motherhood. Thank you so much for sharing with me. You are a strong and brave warrior mama. Sending love your way.
Bekah dear, You’ve expressed so beautifully what seems beyond articulation. Your love for your mom and hers for you was (and is) remarkable; the loss of her at such a time in your life is devastating. The miracle of Thommie is more than the “every day miracle” of each and every child born, because of the strength of love between you and your mom and her love for your then unborn child. It’s as though she was immersed in and grounded in that intergenerational love all along.