Brittany Hamilton

January

costume phase

took parker’s belated one-year photos at the library and loved this technically bad shot the best

began the year of beads and excessive goods

successfully kept a child alive for 10 years

extreme contact phase

took this the morning of my wisdom tooth extraction, done by longview’s current mayor (weird) and confirmed my theory that i’m less sensitive to anesthesia than most (even weirder)

February

half-time show watch party

thirty eight

March

4th grade field trip

friendship bracelet trading

got the boys an old digital camera 10/10

nbc posted this and it instantly went into my lock screen rotation

April

“who are you calling?” “daniel tiger.”

polymer clay is a craft i will not be getting into

eclipse viewing

anthony started a new position as the hallsville abm

May

anthony officiated my sister & brother-in-law’s wedding on their rooftop & i got to take the photos!

she just…watched a youtube tutorial and made this cake?

talent show & elementary promotion ceremony

June

hot springs

hot air balloon season

July

stealing rocks, always

August

middle school

ask me how i feel about 2012 fusions

addicted to pup cups

September

32nd birthday/12th anniversary weekend

October

still too hot for pumpkins

November

abbott made it to the 2 year seizure-free mark with no tumor growth and i have a lot of feelings about it

this is a toucan that looks remarkably close to pesto the penguin. i love him

this year we switched our go-to mexican place from tele’s to papacita’s, sad day.

Mackenzie’s graduation photos

three

December

I knew I was carrying a boy the second Anthony said his full name. “Bradley” had been on our list for years, but it didn’t immediately feel right now that we actually needed a name. We went round and round trying to decide what would go with it. Anthony asked about my Grandaddy’s middle name, and somehow in the last 10 years no one had told him that Grandad went by his middle name, or what his actual first name was. (We all agree that he seems like a “Ray” and not a “Lawrence”). Anyway, he said, “Bradley. Ray. Hamilton.” like it was a revelation. I looked out the window as we passed an old shopping center, and instead of the girl I’d been picturing, I saw a brown-eyed, brown-haired, olive-skinned little boy with a mischievous half smile.

My Grammy was the first one I called when we found out it was a girl. I can remember the exact tone she answered with, the exact way she said, “It’s a girl!”, and the exact way she repeated her name with sweetness and awe. I hung up and drove back to work, like all was right with the world.
I didn’t know it was the last “normal” conversation we’d have, without any heaviness in the air. In 3 weeks, she’d receive a terminal diagnosis. In 8 weeks, she’d be gone.

Grief—like love, and parenting, and life in general—is complicated. Even without the pregnancy hormones, I think I would have felt the same amount of desperate, suffocating, sometimes physical pain over losing her. Previously I thought I’d been through enough loss to not be totally wrecked by it, but I was so wrong. I told myself that losing your grandparents is just about inevitable…that she peacefully died, having accomplished every single thing she’d wanted to do. Of course, I wanted relief from her suffering. But I ached for my Grandad. When you’ve been married over 50 years, how can you function as “one” again? I hurt for my great aunt, her best friend, who’d already lost so much in such a short time. I hurt for the hole she left in our family and was devastated I’d have a child who’d grow up without her entirely. But mostly, I just wanted her here, for me. It was too hard to picture a world without her in it.

I thought about her so much as time just rudely continued to move forward. She was amazed by even the fuzzy black and white ultrasounds I sent, I wished I could show her his exact face in our 3D scans. I’m sure we would’ve talked every day before his birth. I’m sure she would have cried & prayed while I labored, that she would have been amazed at how big he was. I’m sure she would marvel at everything he is; and he is nothing like I expected.

His personality is all sweet, no spice. He locks eyes with you like no baby I’ve ever met. He smiles with his whole face, and sometimes he looks so happy he could burst. He’s already lost a lot of his newborn chub, trading it in for being a certified long boy. His eyes/nose/lips are his daddy’s, and he looks nothing like his namesake.

Back before we knew she was sick, before we knew what the baby was/wasn’t/is, Grammy hosted one of her signature game nights. Sometimes there was “just us”, but tonight there was an assortment of aunts, uncles, and cousins. We played Nertz, Dominoes, Skip-bo, and my personal favorite: Catchphrase. In between rounds we snacked on dinner leftovers and Blue Bell. She had gotten out all her scrapbooks sometime recently, and now they stayed accessibly in the coffee table. As she passed around her late son’s wedding album, I leaned close enough to whisper, “You know what we’re naming it if it’s a boy, right?” She squeezed me tight and half-laughed, half-cried, saying “Oh, Brittany.” (Everyone who knows her voice, knows she says your name in a way no one else can.) The whole moment lasted maybe 30 seconds, but I will hold onto it forever.

I think sometimes things happen for a reason, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they happen for a million tiny reasons, most of which we would never be able to wrap our small, imperfect minds around…most of which have nothing to do with us. I don’t know if there’s a life lesson to be chiseled out of every hard thing. I don’t know if “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. But I do know that being in darkness makes you more aware of light. I know that experiencing pain can make you better at finding joy. They may not be chock full of purpose; but I do believe that the losses keep us looking.

To most, my Bradley’s probably seem like just average blue eyes, but I see the same exact shade I’ve been in love with for a decade. If we hadn’t been keeping my mother-in-law’s smile alive in our minds, we probably wouldn’t have noticed it so quickly in our baby’s face. I believe that the more he grows, the more it will seem like the only possible fitting name; and yet it wouldn’t have even made the list, if our family had not lost a Bradley.

And just to me personally, that connection, with a name, to my Grammy was the first step in soothing my anger at losing her. I know that when I think about my Uncle Brad, sometimes it still feels as devastating as the day he died. He is not on my mind constantly anymore; but in all this time, I have never not missed him.

But what if I lost one of my sons? I would wake up everyday with fresh awareness that he was gone. I think that I could move on, but I also think I would feel that grief in my bones, and always yearn to be with him again. Especially once I’d done all the things I wanted to do; once I was sure I’d loved each of my people well; once my body started deteriorating and my heart was at peace with everything on earth. All that was left in my soul would be the ache for my son in my arms.

No one could know for sure what my Grammy was thinking, but I do know how she thinks. And I am 100% confident that she had 100% confidence her last breath would remedy 14 years of being without him. I don’t think she had attained some higher level of faith; I think she had a huge reason to keep looking.

Both of my boys have their own stories. There are so many reasons I think they’re both here.

For a long time, I thought a positive pregnancy test and a healthy baby would fix all my hurt. It didn’t! But so far, the gift of Brad in my life has been to take note of the blessings you can find when you’re willing to keep looking.