I’ll Be by Reba McEntire

I’ve said it a few times in these blog posts, but becoming and being William’s mom is the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me. This past week, I’ve given myself permission to imagine what it would be like if he would’ve been born healthy. I’ve not only imagined what he would be like right now, at almost 10 months old, but I’ve thought about what it would be like in the future. I’ve daydreamed about what it would be like to watch him learn to walk, see his face squish after trying a lemon wedge for the first time, teach him how to bake cookies and brush his teeth. I’ve imagined what it would be like to get his first school pictures, take him to one of Uncle Jer’s team’s football games, watch him play a sport or be on the quiz bowl team like his cousin Noah. Or how terrified I would be to ride in a car with him when he had his learners permit. I’ve imagined his graduation day from high school, his first love, first heartbreak, and his first “learning curve” as an adult. I have let myself imagine what it would be like to stand on the sidelines or sit in the crowd or dance with him at his wedding (if he chose to get married) as him mom.

These images always bring me to tears, as they have now just listing them. The lump in my throat actually hurts like it’s not just a lump, but a really pointy rock stuck in my windpipe, but there’s also such a joy that comes with the imagination. And there is a realization that although I won’t get to do these things with William or our second “almost” baby, I do get to be a mom. I’ll be watching from the sidelines of events we host in honor of William, raising money and awareness for other CHD babies and families. I get to write his story and tell every detail I want. I get the joy of sharing his strength with anyone who will listen. All as his momma.

I was watching “The Summer I Turned Pretty” the other night and there is a scene where the main character Isabel (Belly) had been drinking and is at a house party she threw with drama that feels impossible to carry anymore. Her mom’s best friend, who Belly was extremely close to, died a month before that party and she felt like her life was genuinely falling apart. Belly was lying in a room by herself, drunk and crying, when she picked up her phone and clicked “mom” on her screen. The call went to voicemail and as soon as she started talking, her voice broke and she started sobbing. She said, “Mommy, I need you… please come and fix it.” There’s more to the voicemail than that, but those are a few of the words she said. Then she hung up and fell asleep until she woke up to her mom saying her name.

I was watching this scene and tears started their decent down my face. I paused the show and had to let out my own sobs. My mind started in the space of being William’s mom and not getting the chance to experience that. I know its seems backwards for me to want William to be in a situation like that, but I think the sentiment is that Belly needed her mom specifically in that moment; William won’t ever say those words to me, “come and fix it.” I of course wanted to fix everything for William when he was here and so many times since, but I won’t get the opportunity to wake him up and help him fix anything in his life. Then…my mind went to my mom.

The understanding that my mom has felt all of these things for me is just as much of a tear jerker as everything I’ve written up to this point. She told me so many times growing up that I’ll “never be able to understand the kind of love [she] has for me until I experience it myself,” and she was right. I had an idea, but the true understanding just started happening when I met William. And it keeps happening, like when I watched this scene and as I write this. A little bit at a time, I start to understand how badly my mom has wanted the opportunity to fix the really tough stuff in my life. And William dying has been the biggest thing she’s wanted to fix for me, like I wanted to fix it all for William.

This song played in the little apartment Jeremy, me, and my mom lived in in Cheyenne when I was 7 years old. It was before pandora or music streaming was a thing, but there were non-stop music videos on CMT and Reba sang this song one day when Jeremy wasn’t home. My mom stopped what she was doing and she called me into the living room and said, “Listen to this song. This song is for you and your brother.” I’ll never forget the look on her face and the unknowing nod I gave her. Now, when I listen to it, I don’t just think of that moment, but of all the moments where “darkness [fell] upon my heart and soul” and she was the one I picked up the phone to call and she was the “light that shine[d] for me.” She’s always “found her way to” me and I know she’ll always be here.

My mom was in the room when William was born, she held him while Alex and I slept the next morning, she did our laundry, brought us food, answered every phone call, updated my extended family members about William’s journey. She waited on pins and needles when he was in each surgery, she came for his day of love and then turned right back around after getting home from that, when we found out he was going to die. My mom helped us get things together for William’s funeral, she has cried for me and Alex, and I think most importantly, she loved and loves William like I did and do. And as I’ve said, the best way to love me is to love him.

In this song, it doesn’t say that she will fix all the hard things for the person she’s singing to. She doesn’t say she’s going to take away the pain that comes with life, it says that she’ll be there- right beside that person and do anything she possibly can to lighten the burden of those moments. My mom has done that for me, and I did that for William. I did it for William because I learned it from her, and also because I’m his mom like my mom is mine. And although I don’t get the traditional sideline to cheer him on as he runs in for a touchdown, or makes the game winning basket, or sings the solo in his choir concert, or answers the most difficult question correctly, I will still carry him and I’ll be there to cheer him on, just in very different ways.

There are so many people who will eventually come up in these posts and possibly in the novel I’m working on, who showed up and continue to show up for me, but there’s only one Christi, just like there’s only one Stephany in William’s life. If you don’t have a mom who’s shown up for you, or you’ve had to say goodbye to her, I wish you did, but I know each of us has someone who can’t be replaced in our lives. I hope when you listen to this song you think of them and I hope you know you’re that person for someone you love.