10th of May

Grief is nothing but a load of heartbroken love, and everyone carries it differently. For me, it cycles. Most of the time I can keep it at a distance. I could write a book on grief, I’ve lived it so many times. There have been harrowing nights when it has been the only thing that has tethered me, and sudden moments when it comes crashing down around me; an unbearable weight. Some parts of today were like that.

I remember every second of this day ten years ago. May 10, 2008. Two days before my undergraduate graduation. My grandmother had been in the hospital for well over a month. My mom, being the superhuman she is, had peeled away from the hospital to come with me to a celebration brunch for graduating scholarship students. My grandmother coded while we were there. Fewer than two hours later, we edged in close around her bed. In the time between me accepting that she would die that day and her actually passing, I lost something; I changed. Being able to stand by your loved ones as they transition is the hardest, most haunting, beautiful and clarifying experience one can have. And with the shedding of a single tear, the illusion of forever was shattered. I thought I learned the only certain lesson that life has to offer that day.

Last year on this day, I had a standard appointment to check on my baby girl. My doc decided that instead of the planned delivery a few weeks later, she would need to be delivered that day. She wasn’t as active as they wanted her to be. I was instructed to grab my stuff from home and go straight to the hospital. I sat in my car, and before I called my husband and then my mom, I closed my eyes. I thought of my grandmother, and my uncle, and my father, and my baby boy, and my great grandmother. The combined weight of all those losses caused my chest to tighten. Panic and fear set in, and I stated my daughter’s name over, and over, and over.

Aubrey Grace. A mantra.

I said it until I calmed down, and by the time the storm was over, I just knew it was going to be alright. I knew she was going to be alright; and that that May 10, and every May 10 after that would be different. She was born at 7:52 that evening. While my skin burned from a reaction to medication, a heart I thought couldn’t hold anymore burst open and reformed around her. My throat still catches when she laughs, and every chance I get, I give her little feet gentle squeezes. God’s grace, Aubrey Grace. May 10, 2017. 

Aubrey Grace Cooper, May 10, 2017

Today I have been buoyed by the well wishes of so many people that love her. My daughter saw my face first today. I made sure of it. She flashed me the cheekiest smile. I gave her sodden kisses and told her that she's loved. I nursed her, fed her breakfast, dressed her. I combed her hair and thought of my grandmother. I let her listen to Bruno Mars on the way to school. We went to the park this afternoon and she took the sweetest pictures. She had ice cream and cake tonight. And she’s fallen asleep in her daddy’s arms. May 10, 2018.

Aubrey Grace Cooper, May 10, 2018

I thought I learned 10 years ago that forever isn’t a thing, but I’ve relearned this past year that if you’re doing it right, love should feel like forever. I certainly felt my grandmother’s love today.

Happy birthday Aubbie