I Can’t Believe She’s Mine
I have three children. I have two sons who are here, and a daughter who is physically no longer here. Nina passed away as the result of complications surrounding leukemia in May, 2018. I could tell one of a thousand stories about her. One story might be of her illness, and the strength and optimism she held, until her last breath. Another might be of her life; her accomplishments, her athletic and academic prowess that left us all in awe. A very powerful story will describe all the beautiful signs Nina has sent to me and to others since she has passed. These signs have been the rope attached to a life preserver that keeps me afloat, every day.
I decided to write today about losing my only daughter, and what that means to me, a mother. I have never compared what it would be like to lose any of my children with any other. The thought of losing any was simply too terrifying to bear. And now that I am living the nightmare, its still too terrifying to bear the thought of losing either of the boys instead of Nina. When my ex-husband and I talk about her, I fall to pieces almost immediately, as he is the only other person on the planet who feels what I feel for her. And his grief is no greater or less than mine. I know this. But I have been impacted in different ways, and they are becoming more profound, as time moves on.
When Nina was born, I was blown away immediately by her striking femininity. She was so beautiful, with porcelain skin, rose red lips and platinum, silky wisps of hair. I held this amazing being, and stared, in wonder. A girl. I had a girl, of my own. I grew up with two sisters, but this baby girl was different. She felt angelic, only because she was perfect, and I was far from that.
It took Nina about ten years to get through her “tomboy” stage, and hers was full on; no pink, no glitter, boys’ clothing and sneakers only. She was excelling at soccer by the time she was three, and from then on, no sport seemed to be daunting to her. I stood on the sidelines, watched, and thought “I can’t believe she’s mine”. When Nina did become interested in more feminine attire, it still took a while for her to find her own style.Once she did though, she was all in, 100%, like everything else. She developed a keen sense, not only for what looked great on her, but what looked great on other people, including me. Nina shopped for her brothers better than they or I could. When she discovered Youtube, she immersed herself in learning the best makeup techniques and products. When she did her own makeup, she was any makeup artist’s dream: she glowed. Her messy blonde curls grew very long, and she started having her hair straightened, like me. When she did, she had long, silky light brown hair that became her crowning glory.
Shopping became as important to Nina as soccer, lacrosse and math. Nina could out shop anyone, anytime. And she knew where the best bargains were, on any given day. If she didn’t find it on sale, she would find a coupon. If she didn’t have a coupon, she would not buy it. So Nina became a great shopping partner to me. She helped choose outfits for me, for my boys, and anyone else we may have been buying for. She gave the most honest and direct opinions and suggestions. Sometimes her directness felt harsh, but she was always right, and her advice was always given with the person’s best interest at heart.
Nina’s maternal instinct became apparent when my younger son was born. She wasn’t yet four years old, but she held her baby brother with the care and the tenderness of a natural mother. She changed him and played with him, but by far the most striking thing about their relationship was that she knew what he needed sometimes before I did. So I had this little girl, who wouldn’t play with dolls, would only wear boys’ clothing, and was building houses out of any kind of block she could find, with a very strong nurturing instinct.
As Nina and the boys grew up, she was not quiet about what she thought they should be doing differently in school, and at home. She was tough, and she didn’t hold back from telling me when she thought i was being too easy on one of them. The funny thing is, she was usually right. And she also began to relate to me as a woman, and understand some of the unsaid challenges I had with the boys and with my ex husband. I began to rely on her logical explanations and direct suggestions in handling relationships. Nina and I shared what all mothers want with their daughters…a knowing that we had each other’s back.
When my ex and I separated, and conflicts arose, Nina was my strongest ally. She was as sensitive to body language and non verbals as I am, which meant that if she was in the room, she knew exactly what I was feeling and why. There are no words for that kind of bond.
My boys are strong, loving, and they miss Nina terribly. They are good to me, and they are becoming sensitive, intuitive men. But they cannot give me what she did. The feminine energy that Nina brought into our home is not here, in front of us. The silent understanding I shared with her about people, behavior, relationships, etc. is now more silent than ever. I believe she is with me (like I said, all the signs from her is another story), and I need to keep believing that when I shop, she is helping me, when I put on my makeup, she is giving me tips, when I am frustrated, she is telling me to just stay calm.
I am walking through my life, a mother who has lost a child, and that child was and is my only daughter. I am fiercely reminded at every turn that my purest connection of femininity, of motherhood, of the way that women see the world, is with her. So I try to embrace being the only girl in the family now. I wear Nina’s clothes, use her makeup, and wear her jewelry. I feel so lucky to be able to do that. And in this way, I’m keeping her very much with us, in life, in love and in every breath. Honestly, I wear her pajamas, socks and even her underwear. Why? Because I can. And because that’s what girls do.
