A Sad Thought.

Normally I take to the blog-waves to share happy stories and cute pictures. Today, I'm sad, so I'm posting something sad. This is going to be a long, rambling post that I'm sure very few people will read, but I'm leaving it here so it will be a part of my blog history and so I'll remember these thoughts.

In an hour, I'm leaving for the airport and will not see Josh or Jenna for 4 days. I get back around midnight on Sunday, so I won't see Jenna until Monday morning. I have never gone that long without seeing her, and I cried when I dropped her off at daycare today. I picked her up for one last hug and she said "Mommy!!" then with her little face so close to mine, she went through her favorite routine... pointing to my eyes and saying "eyes," pointing to my nose and saying "nose," pointing to my mouth and saying "mowf," and then wrapping her arms around my neck for a quick hug. When I put her down to leave, I think she could sense that I was sad, cause she reached out for me and called "Mommy!" but fortunately she loves her daycare teachers and friends, and I know she was fine before I even got to the exit.

Anyway, that's not the sad part. The sad part is what I was thinking about last night. Before you become a parent, the "fear of death" is just about the fear of dying: the fear of being in pain, of not knowing how or when it will happen, of missing your loved ones, etc. After you become a parent, the fear of death changes slightly.

After Jenna went to bed last night, I was rushing to pack for my trip, and laying out several matching outfits for Jenna (Josh is a great father and can do almost anything else with her, but when it comes to actually picking out her matching outfits, not so much. If left to his own devices, he can dress her in one outfit only, a pink adidas warm up suit. To save him from doing laundry every time she spills something, we decided I would lay out several outfit choices ahead of time). Even though he said he didn't need me to, I was also packing up Jenna's lunch and snacks for daycare on Friday, and going through the pantry/freezer to make sure we had everything she would need. All of this got me thinking, morbidly, what if my plane goes down? Fortunately Josh isn't flying with me, so Jenna would still have her daddy, but what would their life be like without me? It's such a horrible thought, and I didn't dwell on it.

That passing thought, however, made me realize how a fear of dying changes once you become a parent. Now, when I think about my plane going down, I don't think for one second about the pain or the fear or the burning or the wreckage... I thought about the pain of leaving Jenna. Of the horrible, impossible notion of never seeing her again, and the devastating pain of knowing she would be losing her Mommy -- thus, the distinction: the fear of death is no longer about fearing the impact death has on you; it becomes sadness and fear over the pain it will cause and the impact it will have on your children. The thought of my child not having her mother is the most painful fear I have about death. (not to imply that there's something so special about ME, personally, but just mothers in general... you can only ever have 1).

What makes me saddest about that thought is thinking about what my mom went through. At the time, I obviously wasn't a mother yet, so I couldn't understand. In fact, my biggest regret in life is that I didn't get the opportunity to tell her "now I get it... I get it all... I understand everything you did, and thought and felt now that I have one of my own." I didn't get to tell her, from a parent's perspective, how much I respect her and appreciate her. Back to the whole fear of death thing, when I tried to talk about difficult things with my mom, towards the end, she didn't want to talk about her, she only wanted to talk about me. I thought it was just her way of distracting herself, deflecting, and to a degree, wanting to make me feel better, wanting me not to be scared - even back then I understood that much, she wanted to protect me as much as possible. But what I didn't quite grasp until last night, now that I can see the situation from a parent's perspective, is that there was another reason for her not wanting to have that Conversation. I have to imagine that, worse than the cancer, worse than any other pain she may have felt, the worst pain my mom was feeling was knowing that she was leaving us behind. As a parent, short of losing a child, I absolutely cannot imagine a single worse feeling in the entire world than knowing you are leaving your child. When I sat down with my mom that night, and tried to have a conversation with her about what was going to happen, she kept changing the subject. It was frustrating beyond belief, and I chalked it up to her mental state at the time. Now I know -- to look in your child's eyes and talk to them about the fact that you would be leaving them behind and causing them pain... I can't continue that thought, because I think of trying to explain that to Jenna one day, and it's too horrible to imagine, so I won't.

Anyway, I'm rambling and for no reason, because hopefully none of this will ever happen, it just made me sad to think about my mom and the pain I know she must have gone through in saying goodbye to her family. There are just so many things I still wish I could say to her.

On a less sad note, I also started thinking about how it feels strange to go out of town without Josh. Since we met on July 4, 2003, I've gone on 4 trips without him (that I can think of) and two don't really count. On July 5, 2003 (the day after we met), I left for Alaska with my family. At the time, he was just the guy who gave me the Alaska guide book. In October 2003, I went to Australia with my family, and by then he was definitely "the one" in my mind... most of my memories of that trip revolve around running to the internet cafe across the street to email him, seeing that he said he missed me from his work email address (a HUGE deal for him, if you know Josh's email tendencies), and boring everyone I spoke to by going on forever about this amazing guy. The only other travels without Josh were quick two-night jaunts to Arizona and Buffalo for work, and they were both several years ago. Since we met, I haven't been around my extended family without Josh, and I know celebrating won't feel the same without him. I've been so focused on missing Jenna that I haven't stopped to think about how big his absence will be at Ashley & Justin's wedding. When I'm laying on the beach, reading my book, and the sun gets so hot that I need to go in the water, but I'm not willing to put my book down, so I bring it into the ocean with me, whose going to make fun of me!? oh, right, my brother, but that's besides the point. Ashley & Justin's wedding will be amazing, that's pretty much the only thing about this weekend that I'm certain about, but it definitely won't be the same without my other (better) half.

Have a great weekend! I'll be back on Monday with pictures from the Bahamas!!!