The truth is I think about her more than anyone could even imagine. Unless, of course, you’ve been in these awful shoes.
I think about her all day, everyday. And you know, most of the time I think about her with a smile, or sort of with a glance-back half-smile thinking - what a gift she was.
But the other day I was in our closet, staring my clothes hanging in front of me, trying to find something to wear. The day was just about to start when my thoughts just got the best of me. I just remember being suddenly overwhelmed with her being gone.
I felt so utterly lost in that moment. I felt lost without her.
Wouldn’t any mother feel lost without one of her children?
I feel lost sometimes.
I have become an expert at surviving. I know what to say, to make you think I am doing GREAT. To make you feel not so awkward when I mention that one of my children died, or bring up something that one of my (now) dead children did, because God forbid I make you feel uncomfortable for talking about the most horrendous thing that has ever happened to me. Just saying. But in all honesty, I hate making someone feel awkward and like they wish they never asked a question or started the conversation. I know what not to say. And most of the time that is exactly what I do.
I sweep her under the rug, because she has become this painful reality that babies die.
But the truth is I think about her a lot.
And there are some days when I still wake up in total shock, that this is really life.
God knows it could be worse. A million times worse. But sometimes that empty feeling has a way of just swallowing me alive.
I have a daughter. And I wish to God I could have known her better.
What her favorite shoes would have looked like.
Her dolls, would she have played with dolls? Or would she have been a tomboy?
How long would her hair have been now? And would it still be curly?
Would she have loved The Little Mermaid as much as I did?
What would she be saying, and talking about all day?
My heart is sad. And really, it’s okay that it’s sad. Lately it feels more comforting to be sad than happy because something about that sadness makes me feel strangely close to those days surrounding her life+death. The one thing I was afraid that this new pregnancy would do is take me further away from my first child, but if anything it reminds me so much of my pregnancy with her. So I welcome the heartache.
On a side note, when I bring up Jenna’s picture on our computer screen Bubby will say “Baby!”, and when I tell him her name, he can repeat her name pretty well. My heart aches just thinking of how I am going to try to explain who she is. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through it the first few times without being a blubbering mess!! He is starting to talk so much, and understand even more. I want to start soon, so that he’ll always know who this baby girl is.
Who knows, maybe he already does know. I’ve tried reading this book to him a couple of times when he was younger and I could barely get through the whole book. I like to think he knows more about her than I think he does.