A few weeks ago my sister told me that my nephews still talk about the baby I lost. She said one night before bed they asked her if I'm still sad. They wondered if she was still little in heaven, or if she was big.
And oh, my heart.
It's been two years and my life now is so different from the one I had then, when my first pregnancy ended and my little baby died. I have another baby to think about and take care of now, and there isn't as much space in my mind to fill up thinking about my little girl all day. Or even every day. That thought alone makes me feel so sad. I can't help but feel some guilt over it. What kind of mother doesn't think about her child daily? Even one that's not here on earth anymore?
But no. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for the passing of time, and I'm thankful that God is giving me exactly what I prayed so hard for-- a little bit of comfort and a little bit of peace. It keeps getting easier.
There are times when I look at Ralphie and wonder if he looks like what she would have looked like. There are times when I hear of another woman going through the shock and sadness of losing a baby. Those are the times my heart breaks all over again. I'm able to mend it back together pretty quickly, but it breaks all the same. And I'm glad for that too. It's good to remember her, even when it hurts.
Of course, it's this time of year that I remember her more often. She was born on a sunny fall day, and the trees that lined the street where we lived turned a brilliant shade of yellow the week we lost her. Those yellow leaves remind me of her so much.
So I baked you a cake, little baby. Happy birthday to you.
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