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The Perfect Timing
a blog by Krissi McVicker, May 15, 2012
An everyday miracle occurs when the timing of an event works out perfectly, like when just the right uplifting song comes on the radio or a person makes a comforting gesture (physically or virtually). Through infertility, these moments may be few and far between, but when they come, treasure them.
The other day, as my daughter and I were finishing up our manicure/pedicures (a special treat for Mother’s Day weekend), the song that always reminds me of my mom came on the radio: John Denver’s "Sunshine on My Shoulders." And, it made me cry. You see, my mom passed on six years ago this July. And for the last six years I’ve been celebrating Mother’s Day as a mom, I’ve also been celebrating it without my mom. So this holiday is indeed bittersweet for me.
Later that day when we were at a family party, another song came blaring through the DJ’s speaker that made me pause. Since my father passed on when I was very young, my mother and I danced together for the traditional father/daughter dance at my wedding. As this song now played, again, I began to tear up.
Mother’s Day came, and my husband, who was stricken with a stomach bug, was still in bed. As I thought about so many others getting ready to go see their moms around the world, I was getting ready to go to the cemetery, a place I certainly didn’t want to go to by myself. But, when I asked my daughter if she’d go with me, she said, “Sure, that’s what girls do.” Wise beyond her years my daughter is, because at 5 years old, she already understands this camaraderie among women, a camaraderie that is essential at such pivotal moments in our lives.
At the cemetery, where I told her we’d bring my mom flowers, she told me she didn’t see her. Of course, I had to explain that when you go to Heaven, your spirit is all around — in the sun (shining down on my shoulders that day), in the trees, in the breeze — and that we wouldn’t be able to see her. Not really being able to understand, my daughter, carrying her new flashlight, shed light on this idea and helped me “see” the connection. She knew it was important to be there with me even if she couldn’t quite understand, just as my mom knew it was important to be there for me during my infertility struggle, understanding very little of what I was going through.
I firmly believe my daughter, who came into my life just weeks after my mom passed, came right at the perfect time, despite how long I prayed and struggled for her to come before then.
As buzzing bugs all around us on the big open field began to bother her, my daughter told me she wanted to leave and prompted me to go. But as she got up toward the car, she glanced back to see me give some last kisses in my hand and rub them on my parents' graves. She could see the tears in my eyes, and ran up to embrace me in a huge hug. And as I held her tight and sobbed deeply, she said, “It’ll be OK.”
And in that perfect moment, it was.