Victoria Jane

"Missing Sarah Jane" -- the title I gave to my blog when I began writing in high school. I had always loved the way my mom's first and middle names flowed so beautifully.

I think many women who know they want children someday have a list. Mine is on the notes app on my phone, and whenever I would hear a name I loved, I added it to the list. When I started considering that having a baby could be a reality in the not-too-distant future, I knew we would use Jane. I loved my mom's middle name. My dad sometimes called her Janie. When we found out we were having a girl, it was a no-brainer.

We chose Victoria for a few reasons. I liked the idea of a V name and I had a few on my list. Brett and I were going through names one night when Victoria came up. Brett loved it right away. I was a little hesitant because I envisioned her nickname as Tori-- and Tori Hoxie is a little too much long-E vowel sound for me. Still... the name never left my mind. When Brett fell in love with it, he didn't even know it was my sister's middle name, which made it more special to me. We also learned through our favorite Russian (thanks, Nick!) that her Russian nickname would probably be Vika (Vee-Ka) which I really liked the sound of. When I gave my students three names to vote on, Victoria was the winner by far. I told them it was my husband's favorite too and B (a student very close to my heart) said, "PLEASE NAME YOUR BABY THAT!"

It wasn't until Victoria's birth that I was certain. Naming a whole person is a pretty big deal and I didn't want to be hasty in our decision. After laboring for around 38 hours and just over 40 minutes of pushing, her arrival signaled our official status as parents. When she was finally in my arms and Brett and I had a moment alone with her, we confirmed that Victoria Jane was the perfect name. A piece of her Aunt Lindsay, a piece of her Grandma Sarah, and "Vika"-- a tribute to her dad's love and respect for Russian language and culture.

To be honest, bringing a baby into the world was the biggest challenge I have faced in my life. It was a physical and mental marathon and labor/birth was only the beginning. My hormones quickly sent me into a spiraling depression which I was truly not prepared for. I wish I had known how common this is, but unfortunately it's not "normal" to talk about. A week after birth, I started an anti-depressant and today, six weeks into Victoria's life, I'm feeling like myself-- albeit a little less rested and sporting a pair of bags under my eyes.

I haven't said it out loud, but in the last six weeks, I have craved my mom's presence more than I ever have in the 11 years since I lost her. This stage in my life is one that I was so excited for, and yet, Victoria doesn't get to meet her grandma. She doesn't get to be showered in the love that my mom would give her, at least not in the physical sense. She is not lacking in the love of grandparents-- Brett's parents and my dad are wonderful, and she has the most spectacular great-grandma... but the space where my mom should be is empty. I feel that emptiness every day when I look at my perfect daughter. I wish she could feel the warmth of Sarah Jane's hugs, hear the beauty in her fingers on the piano keys, smell her muffins in the oven on a Saturday morning... I wish she could experience my mother's love the way I did.

Even more, I wish I could hear her voice. I wish I could see the joy of watching her become the most loving grandma that I know she would be. It's just not fair. It will never feel fair. I will never understand why. Still, I thank God for giving me 15 years with a mother who loved me unconditionally. No, she didn't do everything right all the time, but she showed me what it is to be a mother who loves her daughter.

I'm pretty good at that.

Peace

I wish I could call "Mom" from the contacts on my phone and it would be you that would answer.

I know that your number, the one I’ll have memorized for the rest of my life, belongs to someone else now.

I know that I was born on June 5, 1996 but I don’t know when I was due. My sister says it was a pretty short labor and delivery, but I don’t know how you felt. I don’t know if you felt ready, or if you knew for sure what my name would be. I guess the thing about moms is that no one remembers a child’s birth day like a mom does, and I don’t have you here to ask you about mine. Dad remembers parts, but I imagine he was a little overwhelmed and he doesn’t recall the details. Yesterday he said, “I know Mother’s Day is always hard for you.”

I know the doctor who delivered me in 1996 because it was the very same doctor who told us tearfully that you were dying a little over 15 years later. When he lost his own cancer battle last year, I thought about his impact on our lives and hoped that you would be reunited.

We’re about 4 weeks away from meeting our girl. We have been showered with love and gifts from family and friends and we have everything we need to begin our lives as a family of 3.

There is one glaringly obvious hole and it is the place where you should be, Mom.

It is the empty rocking chair where you should be rocking her. 

It is the stroller that you should be pushing this summer.

It is the chair in the waiting room at the hospital where you should be sitting, it is my hand you should be squeezing, it is the advice you should be giving, it is the questions that remain unanswered—

It is becoming a mother without my mother.

And yet…

I don’t feel afraid. I feel at peace. I know our girl is safe, I know she is healthy, and I feel this overwhelming joy— I get to bring a perfect gift into the world with my favorite person in the world, the love of my life, and I feel ready.

I don’t know how you do it, Mom, but I know it’s you. I know that you fill me with strength when I feel weak, you comfort me when I feel scared, and in the most life changing moments, you’re here even though I can’t see you. I wish I could. My daughter will know her grandma through the stories I will tell her and the lessons I will teach her. 

Something tells me that you’ve probably already met.

Thanks for being my mom. I love you always and forever.