I Have Two Toddlers

Ever since Jackson died, I have longed to hear the sweet pitter patter of toddler feet in our home again. I can remember a conversation, distinctly, that I had with Bryan around Christmastime in 2017. I was tearfully explaining how torturous it felt to be at least three years away from regaining what we lost, because it would probably take at least a year to get pregnant/give birth, and then two whole years to raise our next child to be as old as Jackson was. Of course, there was no regaining Jackson himself, but there was the hope in my heart that maybe, just maybe, our pain would feel an ounce less unbearable if we could bring ourselves to become parents again. 

Time was my enemy. It was simultaneously moving too quickly and too slowly. Every day, time was taking me farther away from my last physical memories of Jackson. But time was also painfully slow; 1095 days was the bare minimum waiting period until meeting our next 2 year old child and each day of that countdown felt like an eternity. 

I felt the urge to manipulate time and I’ve since found myself rushing through life to get closer to the that jumping point, so we could pick up where we left off. I was desperate to find the portal back to our old lives. I felt like the part of me that died had a shot of being resuscitated if I could just find that moment in time to make that jump.

Owen did eventually arrive, a little more than a year after that conversation in the kitchen. Fortunately, I learned pretty quickly that Owen was his very own separate, beautiful person. He didn’t bring Jackson back, and that was OK. What he did bring back was joy, and the very welcome texture of parenthood back into our day-to-day lives. Our grief didn’t disappear, it just evolved into something new, something slightly less unbearable.

But I still found myself racing through time. I loved my new baby and I was ready for Owen to become a toddler, stat! I remember scrolling through social media posts of other mothers ‘mourning’ the end of babyhood on their child’s first birthdays. Meanwhile, I was still mourning the actual death of my child and so very eager to get this toddler show on the road. I had to remind myself, over and over again, to settle into the present moment. I had to practice what I preach in my mindfulness therapy groups, to stop trying to manipulate time: “Don’t rush the moment; don’t hang on to the moment. Be in the moment, right here, right now.”

Owen did eventually become a toddler. Here we are, 2.5 years after that conversation in the kitchen, with a 20 month old who runs around, plays, and chases his dog sister Stella all over the house. The pitter patter is back. And you know what? It’s beautiful. The pitter patter doesn’t fix our grief but it has helped us love our lives again, and love a brand new child again. Getting to know Owen has also helped us to remember Jackson. Learning that Owen loves bell peppers and avocado reminds me how much Jackson hated them (and much preferred some foods that Owen won’t eat, like melon and rice and beans!). Watching Owen play peek-a-boo in the closet reminds me of that-time-we-played-the-same-game-with-Jackson. Hearing Owen speak his first few words reminds me of how verbal Jackson was and how much I will always cherish conversations we got to have while he was here. Owen isn’t just a vehicle for helping us remember his brother, he is also uniquely himself, with his own preferences and ideas and cherished memories.  

Now I find myself experiencing a different urge to manipulate time. As we approach Owen’s second birthday, I am for the first time wanting to hit the brakes. It’s like I’ve been speeding down this road and am afraid of driving right past my destination, which is a great reminder to me that there is no destination. Perhaps my brain has romanticized this toddler age and stage, in the same way that the living often glorify the dead. Or perhaps I irrationally fear that a second birthday signals an ending that I don’t want to fully arrive at. 

There are 140 days left on my countdown. My task these days has been to continue returning to my mantra: “Don’t rush the moment; don’t hang on to the moment. Be in the moment, right here, right now.”  

I repeatedly notice the urge to hang on to Owen’s toddlerhood forever, and I repeatedly let the urge go. I remind myself I have two toddlers, one forever toddler, and one toddler who I look forward to watching grow up – not too fast, not too slow.