Today is the one year anniversary of meeting our little baby girl.
One year ago today we went to the hospital and I delivered her little body. Two days later, we left the hospital and discovered that fall had arrived. We drove back to our apartment, and the tree-lined streets were ablaze and littered with golden leaves. Our hearts were broken, and yet the rest of the world was moving along without us as though nothing had happened. It was the most bitter and melancholy feeling I’d ever had.
It’s a lot different this year. The golden leaves are a joy to see—I know that they mean our little boy is coming soon. But sometimes, in between all the happiness and excitement, I look at those leaves and remember the melancholy feelings. The long, lonely days missing our little girl. I think they’ll come back to me every fall season.
A few weeks ago, Ryan asked me what I thought we should do honor her today. We both thought that it would feel strange to do any sort of celebrating. We felt a little lost. What does one do on a day like today? I didn’t know how to answer him.
And then I remembered this:
When we had the inspection on our house, the man who came to do the inspection told us, right out of the blue, about a baby boy that he and his wife had lost years ago. He was a pretty serious and quiet guy—not the chatty type. I still can’t quite figure out what even made him bring it up, but I loved that he did. I loved that, even years later, he still felt it was important to remember that little baby. We were total strangers, but that didn’t stop him from talking about his son.
So we’re spending today, and every October 5th, remembering her. We’re going to say a prayer of thanks for all the little and big ways she blessed our family, and a prayer of thanks that she’s happy and safe in heaven.
That, and I baked a chocolate cake with pink frosting. Because, technically, it is her birthday after all. And I’m convinced that any daughter of mine would appreciate a chocolate cake with pink frosting.
Happy Birthday, little girl.