My mom came home from Boston with us and stayed in our apartment for about a week after Kiera died. I know that part of her wanted to give us our space, but a big part of her wanted to move in, hold onto us and never let go. It was great having her there for many reasons, but mostly because she can bring joy and light to any scenario. After a morning of making funeral arrangements, we decided to go to the movies. I don't remember what we saw, but we were the only ones in the theatre. My mom decided to get up in front of the screen, and perform. She danced and sang and literally acted like a clown just to get us to smile. We did, and it felt so good.
A couple months later, Ryan and I went out for dinner and martinis with another couple in town who devastatingly had a still born daughter at 25 weeks. Unfortunately we were all part of a club that no one wants to be part of, but it's nice to have each other. We were sharing our story of Kiera's very long delivery and the days after. I was saying how I was limping around the hospital, with an epidural needle in my spine, making life or death medical decisions for my daughter. Then suddenly I burst out laughing. Saying it all out loud sounded like a nightmare or a horror movie. It was all such a freaking mess. They shared their story of heartache too but we ended up turning the conversation into a tragicomedy. All of us joined in laughter and the dinner immediately felt lighter, and even a bit fun.
My mom always came to stay at our apartment before I had a surgery or any sort of procedure. She says in her mind, she always feared it would turn into something very serious, and she was right. Thank God she was there with Ryan each time because I always ended up having an extended stay in the hospital. They tell me that after Dr. S broke the news to me that I should use a surrogate, they were bickering all night over who was going to answer my calls. They didn't want to take the abuse. My mom never drank liquor, but that week she was drinking Ryan's best scotch. It has turned into a sarcastic joke in our family that while I was in the hospital, the two of them were ordering in delicious dinners and enjoying libations to try to relax. At the time, we never thought we'd be laughing about this but we are very happy we are.
Ryan and I were driving out to Montauk from Hoboken over 4th of July weekend this year and out of nowhere he said "Remember when we did this drive, just to pickup lunch, and then drove right back?" He's referencing the Friday that we got to a cafe to meet my mom, and planned to stay for a few days. Then we received the call from my doctor that I needed immediate blood transfusions. My mom jumped in our car and headed right back to NYU with us. We laughed at how long we drove that day, 8+ hours in total, just to pick up salads to go.
Whenever I'm feeling stressed, sad or overwhelmed, I always try to remind myself that one day I'll look back and laugh at this. Of course most of it is not funny, at all. But if you try to keep things light and look at the bright side, you'll be amazed at how much you can laugh at. My mom is the first person I call to vent or yell to. She's also the first person to laugh at me, which often drives me crazy especially when I'm looking for her to join my pity party. I'm aware that half of the things I say in a state of anger or pain are ridiculous, regretful and 4 letter words I'd never usually say. That's why I only say them to her. The outlook that she has is so necessary though because at least for me, laughter is the best medicine.
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