“In the midst of Winter, I found there was, within me, and invincible Summer.” ~ Albert Camus
I’ve been missing you a lot this week, my Baby Girl. I had a wonderful time visiting my family up north, but it was hard not being home on the day that should have been your birthday. It’s hard to think about how I should be holding a tiny, pink, healthy baby in my arms, but I’m not. About how I should be rocking you and nursing you and singing you lullabies to sleep…
Your daddy and I have decided to start trying again to have a baby, and that is hard too. I wish it was you. I feel guilty for wanting another child. I feel disappointed when yet another test is negative. And then some days I wonder if I am even ready to handle the stress and fear (terror?) that another pregnancy will bring, or if I ever will be. Just thinking about the possibility of another miscarriage sends me into anxiety. Not knowing what happened or what could have been done, if anything, to prevent it haunts me.
But then I think of the joy that your big brother brings to my life every day, and the joy that you brought in your short time, and I know that motherhood is worth whatever pain or heartache may come. And I am excited too. Being a parent is not easy, no matter what roads you travel to get there, but it is one of life’s most amazing experiences nonetheless.
The day before I left on my trip, I noticed that your daffodils’ stems were growing tall and green, ready to bloom very soon now that warm weather had arrived in Arkansas. Just in time for your birthday. I know it seems silly, but that whole 12 hour drive to South Dakota I worried about those flowers. Mostly I worried that I would miss seeing them bloom since winter was still very much in full force where I was headed. I had no idea that my grandma hadn’t had a chance to plant the bulbs I sent her outside before the ground froze, and had instead planted them in pots indoors. Or that the very first bloom had opened that very morning when I set out for her house. God really is good. Just when I need them, those little reminders are always there. If she had planted them outdoors, they would have still been buried under 2 feet of snow, but instead we were able to enjoy them a little early right there on her kitchen windowsill.
Some of the flowers here at home did bloom while I was gone, but I shouldn’t have worried about missing them. They were still bright and beautiful when I pulled into the driveway Friday evening.
I miss you, but I am moving forward a bit more every day as well. You will always be a beautiful part of my life. I will always remember you. Ever spring when the daffodils bloom, I will think of my baby girl. And when I do, I will smile more and more, and cry less.
I love you.