One year later…

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.”
― Gilda Radner


(Birthday cookies for Hope)

One year ago today I sat with my husband in a cold hospital room, holding a daughter I would never bring home, born too early to live in this world. In that moment, I felt like I could barely breathe. I didn’t think I could never move forward from that place of pain.

Today, I feel peace. Sadness too, but overwhelmingly peace. I don’t think I will ever understand, in this lifetime anyways, why things had to happen the way they did, but they did. And I mourned, I grew, and I am overcoming a little bit more each day.

Today, even as I type, I can feel a new life growing inside me. I know Zeke is not a replacement for the child we lost, and I would never want him to be. But I do feel like he is a new beginning. One year ago today, I had no way of knowing where I would be today. I didn’t know if we would be able to get pregnant again, or if I would ever even want to. Now, as much as I will always wish that Hope were here with us, I can’t help but think that I would never have had the opportunity to be a mother to Zeke If I hadn’t experienced that loss. And I feel that the stonger, wiser, better me that has developed over the past year will be better Mom to him than I could have been before. It’s a bittersweet thought, but good has really come through this pain.

I will always think of my daughter, and miss her, and love her. I will think of her when I hear a certain song on the radio, or see the daffodils bloom in the spring, or when her brother, Zeke, is born in just a couple of months. I will think of her when I least expect it; when I am driving down the road, or fixing lunch, or hiking on a beautiful Arkansas trail some Autumn day years from now. Maybe I’ll smile or maybe I’ll cry. Or maybe both.

I love you, Hope.

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4 thoughts on “One year later…

  1. And you will see her in that place between waking and sleep…you will see her as she would be and you will watch her grow in your mind and you will feel the loss but you will love and cherish Zeke all the more for her. It is possible that you won’t but I have a feeling you will. I do. I see all of my lost babies in my mind in that twilight. I have 9 angel babies and 1 living child. I am so very sorry for your loss. I know it is not an easy thing to go through. Congratulations on Zeke. He will be your miracle. I have my miracle too. His name is Austin and he is 13 now.

    Love and light to you and your family,

    Lucky Star
    http://www.victimnomore.wordpress.com

  2. That is beautiful you are celebrating her life and she lives on.

    “I will always think of my daughter, and miss her, and love her. I will think of her when I hear a certain song on the radio, or see the daffodils bloom in the spring, or when her brother, Zeke, is born in just a couple of months. I will think of her when I least expect it; when I am driving down the road, or fixing lunch, or hiking on a beautiful Arkansas trail some Autumn day years from now. Maybe I’ll smile or maybe I’ll cry. Or maybe both.”

    *tears*

  3. Pingback: Lately… | Crazy Wonderful Life

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