Happy 7th Birthday Zachary

     I look out the window again, finding Zach diligently tossing the ball repeatedly to Aspen. Neither one has shown the slightest bit of fatigue over this latest game of fetch that has lasted well into the late hours of dusk. While he tries to squeeze the last bit of activity into this, the busiest day of the week, I am trying my best not to climb into bed. Both of us waiting on Mike to get back home.  

     As every birthday goes in our house, we begin the day with hugs and kisses, a birthday plate left out for the special day piled with whatever the birthday boy desires for breakfast. It was a school day so, of course, two dozen cupcakes are delivered to the classroom and a loud, unharmonized version of Happy Birthday is sung by his peers.    I am humbled by how much Zach is loved by his classmates and teachers who all have wished him well today. 

     After school, we piled into the car and made it to daddy's work where, yet another birthday cake and chorus of Happy Birthday is sung to him by the office staff and his siblings. Mike looks so proud showing off his son to his patients, who stand out the doors of their rooms peeking out at the raucous going on. I see Mike whispering into Zach's ear and see how our son's face lights up with whatever the two have shared. They are always thick as thieves these two. I feel with every day that goes by my son is drifting farther and farther away from the little boy I loved to hold in my arms each night. Now, he is growing into a little man that wants to be just like his dad, dress like his dad, hang out with his dad, play video games with his dad. I am the "in between" parent. The one who gets hugs in between running out of the house, or getting a bowl of popcorn from the kitchen, or walking back to his room to finish homework. I am the afterthought of daily activity, yet, I know that he loves me just the same because he never lets the "in between" moments seem meaningless. He knows I need a stronger hug than his dad, a longer kiss, a warmer smile. How can I complain that he is becoming more independent. 

     Daddy arrives home and a deafening ring can be heard in the house as seven children scream with excitement as he enters the house. I love this scene, it never gets old. It is a rock star welcome and Zach is the president of the fan club. I'm taken back by  how long my son's legs appear as he get's a piggy back ride into the house. Where did those chubby little thighs go? When did they get replaced by the long sinewy muscles? When the initial excitement dies down we manage to eat dinner and have the last birthday cake of the evening but I notice Zach hasn't touched his slice. I'm sure he is probably in a sugar coma by now. The kids give him their gifts which seem both comical and yet so touching. Zach holds each gift as if it were made of gold, mesmerized at their craftsmanship, he doesn't miss the opportunity to thank them and hug them, making sure each sibling knows how much he appreciates them. I feel tears threatening to come but I shake them away. He's seven, I remind myself, not seventeen. 

     Finally, when the babes are put to bed I see those two buddies whispering again and smiling. I little pang of jealousy hits me but I ignore it. I know he will come say goodnight to me before he goes to bed. I go to my room to get ready for bed and find that Mike and Zach have followed me in. Both still smiling from ear to ear. 

"Go ahead, tell her," Mike says. 
"Tell me what?" I ask. 

     Zach walks towards me and from behind his back he pulls out two pieces of cake and hands them to me. "For my birthday, dad is letting me sleep in your bed tonight." I look up at Mike who is looking at me knowing without my even saying a word what my heart is  singing. 
"This is really what you want to do, Zach?" 
"Are you kidding, mom? Cake in bed, a movie with you guys. I've been asking dad for months." 

  I can't remember who jumped in bed faster but I think it was close. It may be seven years since I gave birth to this boy who is quickly becoming a man but tonight he wants to still be my baby. Why would I complain. Hours later, the TV is off, the room is still and I can see my son's sweet face in the moonlight. He is a little bookend to my husband lying just across from him. I can't help but smile at the sight. I stretch out and am about to roll over when I feel Zach's arm wrap around mine as he snuggles in to me. Now, in the dark, when no one is around, I let my tears come. Whether they are tears of joy or sadness I do not know, I'm too tired to diferrentiate them. All I do know is that I am grateful. So grateful my heart could burst. 
Happy Birthday Zachary, my sweet boy. I love you to pieces. 

Mother's Day 2014

      After receiving breakfast in bed including the first strawberry from our patch, I was quickly shoved out of a bed that Mike and I no longer fit in with this expanding family. To say that my heart swelled is an understatement. It feels that I have one of these moments almost once a day lately. Purely grateful for what I have been given. But I must be honest and say that immediately following this feeling of joy comes either the deepest sorrow over the son that is missing in these frames or the overwhelming guilt over feeling so fulfilled despite his absence. It has been five years since Zachary died and for any mother looking for solace in this post I must apologize for you may not find it. I miss him. I cry for him. I feel incomplete as a mother during this day despite the countless bombardments from church, consumerism, and television telling me otherwise. 

   Losing Zachary is like a disease that has no cure. No. It is more like an amputation that has a constant recurrence. Some moments I am learning to walk again with an emotional prosthetic. One I can feel is clearly foreign but tolerable when suddenly out of nowhere something will happen to bring back the pain all over again. And as I sit there waiting for the spiritual Morphine to kick in I am overwhelmed with anger, sadness, or despair. I never know what will trigger it or when to expect it. But when it comes it comes with a vengeance and the only person who understands this is my husband who can look over at me and squeeze my hand, or wipe my tears. Sometimes he cries too or simply mouths the word "Zach" to me to let me know he understands. 

     But I thank Heavenly Father for giving me these beautiful children to watch over. If it wasn't for them I feel that I might just have floated away after Zach died. Golden and Eva were the anchors that kept me tethered to this world for I surely wanted to jump into that cold Winter's grave after him; first,  out of guilt I got up and began to care for them but after awhile I learned to love being a mother again. I stopped feeling like I abandoned Zachary and concentrated more on the living. This is not to say that these feelings don't creep back in every now and then just that I am learning to cope with them better.

     It was not easy getting pregnant after Zachary died and again I found myself feeling like a failure. Not only had I been unable to keep Zach safe but I couldn't give Mike another child to complete this incomplete chapter of our life. There seemed there was no happy ending destined for us. But luckily with the triplets I had not just a good pregnancy, I had the pregnancy of epic proportions. I worked until my due date and they came home with us. But those months were filled with countless tears. Would I lose one or all of them? Was I having a miscarriage or was the spotting normal? Thinking "when" not "if" something was going to go wrong. That is the true suffering of losing a child; you lose that ability to be carefree. You lose hope. Why wouldn't something go wrong? 

Nico's first feed by Eva 5mos

     But losing a child has given me the humbling ability to not only grow closer to my Savior but it has helped me understand just how great was His sacrifice of giving his first born son to a world that would eventually torture and kill him. He knows my sorrow and has made it His goal to show me increased love and understanding because of it. He has allowed me to mother so many beautiful children and promises me I will see Zachary again. But even with all of this I find myself sad because I miss him. I am selfish and want him to share in these silly moments we cherish here on earth that make us laugh and cry. 

    For example, each Mother's Day my beautiful daughter prepares for me the most splendid gifts. A card, a piece of art, or this year, a poem. She is amazing and each gift warms my heart like she will only understand when she becomes a mother herself.

Eva's gift

     

     Golden, on the other hand, seems to always be surprised when Mother's day rolls around. It has become a fun time here at the Harris house on a Saturday night when I turn to him and nonchalantly say, "Hey Golden, I know I am going to love your gift the most this year." This is where Golden looks at me with a blank face and says something like, "Gift?" I pretend to be so excited and say, "Yeah, my Mother's day gift that your gonna give me….Tomorrow!" Golden has the best cartoon like surprise face you ever want to see. I especially love the beads of sweat that gather at his temple at this point. But it is all in jest because Golden is simply not a touchy, feely kind of dude.  So you could imagine my surprise when Sunday evening Golden asks me, "So is it time for me to give you your gift yet?" 

    Mike and I gave each other a quick, "Do you know what he's talking about?" look and shrugged. "Sure it's time Golden. Let's have it." He quickly ran to his room and returned with two things. One was a plastic heart that said Happy Mother's Day. This heart he took from a chocolate chip cookie cake I bought myself on Friday. The second thing was a 3x5 index card with his chicken scratch writing on the front. Here it is below.

For those not familiar with these hieroglyphics it spells out "I love you with all my heart -Golden Harris" I don't need to tell you that I was rocked to my core with love for this child and then and there understood the parable of the prodigal son. Here I have a perfect daughter full of love, intelligence and beauty that strives to love me perfectly every day. I could not be happier but Golden's waters run deep and most days he slithers in and out of his room into the car and is lucky to put two words together in his responses to me. But what my son has always been is honest to a fault and that is why this card just broke me. He loves me. I am a good mother. How Zach would have loved this moment. And what would he have made me?

     I suppose that is life for most people. An ebb and flow of happiness and sadness creating a beautiful tapestry that is as individual as the grains of sand in the ocean. I usually don't allow myself to indulge in the sadness over losing Zach except on his birthday and Mother's Day but even then it is so hard because life has a terrible way of moving forward even when you are not ready. Forever, I will be stumped as to how best to answer the simple question of, "How many kids do you have?" or "Are these all of your boys?" If I say seven children and explain things I have to face that expression of uncomfortableness from the individual. If I say six, I feel a tremendous feeling of self loathing over not acknowledging him. There will be activities and work that needs to get done on his birthday and I am left feeling guilty for not spending my entire day thinking of him. So instead, I will find myself unable to hold back tears when I am alone and lying out in the sun on a beautiful day by the ocean. I can not schedule this mourning and will just let anyone know this. There is no right amount of time to "just get over it." Or if there is, I haven't reached it yet. But today I am grateful for my children, both living and deceased, and for my husband. All of whom I will be with eternally one day. Just not today.