Sunday, August 22, 2010

I Hate Weekends

I used to love the weekends. When Hudson was alive, I pretty much lived for the weekends. Weekends were the time when Hudson, her dad, and I had uninterrupted time to hang out, have fun, and just be together.

These days, I hate the weekends. I really hate them. This seems a little counterintuitive that the weekends are worse than the weekdays, since I spend the weekdays mostly alone at home, whereas at least Ed is at home with me on the weekends. While I am glad to have him home with me on Saturday and Sunday, it is these days when I feel Hudson’s absence the most, when I am reminded the most of what a complete 180 we’ve been forced to make in our lives completely against our will.

Some of our favorite things we used to do on the weekends:

Say hi to all the animals at the zoo

Visit Poppy and Grandma and Grandpa in North Carolina and tool around in Poppy’s boat

Hike around the Arboretum and look at all the flowers

Run around and play at the National Mall


Hang out with Bess

Hang out with Bess some more

Watch planes take off and land at Gravelly Point

Chill with our mama- and daddy- friends at happy hour on Friday afternoons (and eat black beans)

Play in the snow in the winter

Rock in the rocking chair (saying “rocky-rock, rocky-rock”)

Name all the animals at the Museum of Natural History
Play with cool toys and run around the HUGE atrium at the Building Museum
Go to the farmer’s market in the summer
Make cinnamon raisin French toast and cheese grits for the munchkin on Sunday mornings (with leftovers for Monday’s lunch)

Other things we’d be doing on the weekends this summer if our sweet Hudson were here:

Swimming at our many community pools or just in a baby pool in the backyard
Teaching our big girl how to use the potty and sleep in a big-girl bed
Checking out the many county fairs around DC
Taking long bike rides in the bike trailer we were getting ready to buy right before Hudson died
Picking our own strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and any number of other summer fruits we could find at local farms
Baking pies with Hudson using the fruit we picked together
Reading bigger and more complex books with her
Helping her learn to use crayons and markers
Going to playgroups with all of her friends
Attending the birthday parties of her many friends who are turning one and two years old
Teaching our girl to learn to love camping in our National Parks
Taking her to Jazz in the Sculpture Garden on Fridays
Visiting the National Gallery and letting her start learning about art

Things we would not be doing on the weekends if our Hudson were here:

Sanitizing and packing her toys away in boxes
Running errands without regard to nap schedules and mealtimes
Going to the movies regularly
Writing thank you notes for all the innumerable kindnesses we’ve received in the last three months
Painting our new porch ourselves (we’d have paid someone to do it so that we could spend the time with our girl)
Avoiding eating French toast and cheese grits, because it’s just too damn sad
Writing on this outrageously sad blog on days when my stat counter shows readership drops off (presumably because everyone is out doing fun things, including our friends with kids, who are out doing fun things with them)

I know that there are lots of fun things that Ed and I could be doing on the weekends without Hudson. We did them together often before she was born. But that, of course, is totally beside the point—doing all of those things feels equally sad, because we should be doing something else. I also know that if we’re lucky, these sad weekends will one day be different, and we’ll have more children to cherish and enjoy and savor these days with. But for now, the weekends are one of the worst reminders that for the time being, I am a childless mother. And for that, I hate them.


  1. This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, love to complete your life.

  2. Thinking of you on this weekend and others, Mandy.

  3. Thinking of you today and every day, Mandy.

  4. Sending you a big hug Mandy...praying hard during this special month of Ramadan for peace and happiness in your and Ed's hearts.

  5. Your joyful presence and your leadership are sorely missed in our community. You are always in our thoughts.

  6. Thinking of you and Ed on the weekends, and every day.

  7. That sounds like it surely sucks. I can see how that list of activities could really steal the weekend joy. I'm so sorry sister.

    I love you,

  8. If your stats are down because, in part, of me, I'm sorry. It's difficult for me to read them. I'm like a raw nerve when it comes to them. Alma reads all of them. I have so much respect for your ability to put this out there. I love you. Uncle

  9. Oh, Mandy...I too hate weekends, because I last talked to my boy very early on a Saturday morning, and he died in the wee hours of Sunday. I get it...this sorrow is pervasive. It might crawl just under the surface sometimes---but it's there always. It just varies in degree... Like you and Ed, we also have things we COULD be doing, that we used to do for fun...we had a life "before" (unlike his sister, who has never known a time without her big brother)...but right now I am just not interested. I have a hard time with normal things, let alone doing "happy." But I do know that for us both these sad weekends will as you said one day be because there WILL again be the joy if children in your life, and me because the sweetness of the memories will finally overpower the sorrow. I know it's coming...I just wish it would come faster...

  10. I'm so sorry weekends are especially hard Mandy. I am here reading and thinking of you guys xoxo

  11. Thinking of you, Mandy. Hoping that the sorrow abates even just a tiny bit before long.

  12. Sometimes it is so hard to comment on your posts because they are so raw and words so inadequate. I think of Hudson every day, Erin

  13. Thinking of you guys.

    - Susan W.

  14. Weekends do suck. It is impossible to ignore the hole where Hudson should be. We managed by keeping way too busy and inviting friends down for the weekend often. At 1.5 years out, it is starting to get easier, but still not easy.

  15. I look at the pictures of Hudson, taken so recently and wonder how that precious girl can be gone. She was just here. She was healthy and had a mom and dad who took good care of her. The fact that there won't be any more pictures of her smiling face or any more words added to her word list is unfathomable. She should still be here. I look at my son every night when I put him to sleep and feel grateful for another wonderful day for us to be together. Another day for me to be his mama and for him to be my baby. And, because of Hudson, I wonder if I will be looking at him sleeping so peacefully again tomorrow night. Hudon's story scares me because it highlights my lack of control as a mother, despite my best efforts.

    There is nothing to say about Hudson's death and your pain other than it just sucks. Everything about it. Nothing to make it easier, nothing to take it away. All the good things in the world don't make up for the loss of Hudson. I hope joy returns to you sooner rather than later, but I know it won't be the same without your precious girl to share it with. But how wonderful another smiling face would be that had a hint of Hudson's spirit shining through bright little eyes.

    Thinking of you and Hudson...even on the weekends when I don't have time to get on the computer.

  16. Thank you for sharing all the wonderful pictures of Hudson. Just when I had a favorite picked the next one was just as beautiful.

    In brief little bursts the weekends will become more bearable. Hold on. I promise just as others who lost a child promised me, the days will have more light.