It was a dark and stromy night. No, really, it was. It was cold too...not a night I particularly wanted to venture out with my 7 year old son to a school fair. I was 3 months pregnant and not feeling well. We waited for Dad, so we could all drive together to the elementary school. As usual, Dad was late, really late. Through out the years the standard excuse has been that he is working at a wine tasting. In fact, this excuse for being late is still the standard. This evening was no different. I begged him to cut out early because I had started experiencing terrible cramps and some discharge. His usual, cold response came through the phone, "What do you want me to do? Quit my job?"
I remembering looking at my son who clearly just wanted to get going to school for the festivities. So, we ventured out. What's the saying? Grin and bear it? Yup. I made it through the evening but knew something was terribly wrong. We got home and got my son to bed and that's when the cramps brought me to my knees. I begged my husband to call the doctor. He handed me the phone to make the call. Such compassion. I miscarried. The next morning after getting my son off to school, without informing him of what had transpired the night before, I ventured to my OB-Gyn. I was crushed inside. My husband and I had tried having a second child for many, many years, culminating in my being on hormone therapy. I felt like such a failure and mourned the loss of my baby in solitude. People tried to be understanding, but like cancer, or death of a loved one, or divorce, you really don't quite understand the emotions tied to the event unless you have experienced it first hand.
I remembering looking at my son who clearly just wanted to get going to school for the festivities. So, we ventured out. What's the saying? Grin and bear it? Yup. I made it through the evening but knew something was terribly wrong. We got home and got my son to bed and that's when the cramps brought me to my knees. I begged my husband to call the doctor. He handed me the phone to make the call. Such compassion. I miscarried. The next morning after getting my son off to school, without informing him of what had transpired the night before, I ventured to my OB-Gyn. I was crushed inside. My husband and I had tried having a second child for many, many years, culminating in my being on hormone therapy. I felt like such a failure and mourned the loss of my baby in solitude. People tried to be understanding, but like cancer, or death of a loved one, or divorce, you really don't quite understand the emotions tied to the event unless you have experienced it first hand.
That afternoon I informed my son what happened. He cried and said, "But I told my teacher about the baby coming soon. You made me lie to my teacher!" Wow, didn't see that one coming. We hugged and cried, perhaps for different reasons, but still jointly mourning the loss of expectations and the baby.
That night I had a dream about a very small little, blonde-haired girl. She whispered, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll be with you soon. My name is Clairyssa Marie." About a year later my daughter was born. She named herself Clairyssa Marie.
That night I had a dream about a very small little, blonde-haired girl. She whispered, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll be with you soon. My name is Clairyssa Marie." About a year later my daughter was born. She named herself Clairyssa Marie.
Maria deVries
Ironically, my grandmother's name was Maria, and the little girl in the dream seemed to exude a similar strong and stubborn feminine presence that my Nanna had always possessed. However, Nanna was in her 80s now and suffering from dementia. She passed away only four short months after my daughter came into this world. Although I miss Nanna often and wish my kids could have spent time with the woman I remember, I see an incredible resemblence between her and my daughter, as if part of her spirit lives on.
I missed writing my blog on Mother's Day...had to get some much needed R&R myself. But today I want to not only look back at this amazing event in my life but also pay tribute to the incredible matriarch of our family, Maria deVries.
As I develop the "Characters" page for this blog I will be including a short description of her incredible life spanning from the Nazi occupation of Amsterdam, years in the Australian Outback, and immigrating to the US. But until then, I can only tell you she gave the women in my family the will to fight a good fight, while still being able to enjoy a piece of chocolate, a good puzzle, and a long walk after dinner. And even though they never met, Maria passed on this same zest for life to Clairyssa Marie. No doubt.
Happy Mother's Day, Nanna.
I missed writing my blog on Mother's Day...had to get some much needed R&R myself. But today I want to not only look back at this amazing event in my life but also pay tribute to the incredible matriarch of our family, Maria deVries.
As I develop the "Characters" page for this blog I will be including a short description of her incredible life spanning from the Nazi occupation of Amsterdam, years in the Australian Outback, and immigrating to the US. But until then, I can only tell you she gave the women in my family the will to fight a good fight, while still being able to enjoy a piece of chocolate, a good puzzle, and a long walk after dinner. And even though they never met, Maria passed on this same zest for life to Clairyssa Marie. No doubt.
Happy Mother's Day, Nanna.
Her older years
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