My dearest Eva, my treasure, my sweet,
It's coming on the 15th again. The anniversary of your birth and your death all rolled into one for this sad mama. How I miss you my darling. You are ever-present in my heart and mind. I may appear to be engaged with others but you are always there with me, dancing in my peripheral vision. What would you be doing if you were here? It is the question I ask myself every day...the question without an answer.
On Friday I was shopping and I bought a little something for all the kids...I had to buy you something too. I bought you blue butterfly hairbows. They would have looked so amazing with your beautiful blue eyes. Of course, you can't wear them, and nothing can bring them to you. But they are yours. I just had to buy you something. Had to carry that little bitty card with the hair bows home wishing all the while that you were here and I could put them in your hair.
Some may think my mind is cracking, but the truth is much worse than that. The truth is that it is my heart that is not only cracked, but completely broken open. One can live with a cracked mind but what I don't understand is how I have managed and continue to manage to live with this broken heart. Every evening I am surprised I have lived through another day without you. Every day I miss you but as the 15th draws closer, so do you, and I miss you even more. The 15th is for you. Always. How I wish you could have stayed longer with us. How I wish I never knew this depth of pain and you were here in my arms...or trying to squirm away and go play. How I wish the 15th was only a happy day. A day where you were another month older. A day that could go by, scarcely noticed until it was your birthday again.
Eva darling, your mama misses you so. Every night I pray to dream of you and I never do. Maybe it would be too painful to wake up without you but what I wouldn't do to hold you in my arms again, even if only in my dreams.
I love you my sweet. Good night my darling, my love.
Your mama.
Such a beautiful letter to your Eva, and I can feel the love and yearning you have for her shining right through your words. I don't think you're crazy, or anything close, for buying something for your daughter. I feel like doing that for Molly, too, and she does get roses from her daddy.
ReplyDeleteI wish Eva was here to be able to wear the sweet hairbow you got for her. I'm crying and missing Eva with you, Em, and I hope you are able to dream of holding your precious baby soon.
Sending love. xo
Yes, it's a dual existence isn't it? Engaging with others but always there, with our babies, them dancing around our minds and hearts.
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful letter to your sweet Eva.
How do we live with such broken hears? I never know.
It's the 15th here, now. So, I'm thinking of Eva and you, and yours. Joseph would be 15 months tomorrow, on the 16th. Too long without our babies.
Missing Eva with you, and missing my Joseph. x
Kate, it's the 16th here today. Remembering Joseph.
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Em...I'm so sorry for this deep grief that you are going through. It is amazing that we even get through one moment without our beloved children. I just keep telling myself that every moment, day, year is one closer to seeing my little Caleb again.
ReplyDeleteA couple of things that helped me, especially in my early days of grief were deep breathing. Also a homeopathic doctor helped me and a friend of mine who lost her 29 year old daughter to cancer shortly after Caleb died, by giving us a tincture to help us get through the darkest times. It was a mixture of herbs and honestly my friend found it difficult to make it through each moment, but was greatly helped by it and took it for a time. I didn't experience such a dramatic help from it, but was thankful for it and kept it in my purse in case I felt as though I was going to have a break down in a place where I might feel uncomfortable to do so.
I also found that sitting in the sun...or taking a short walk was helpful...the sun can really help depression. I found that playing upbeat praise music helped too. I also eventually would get out of the house at least once during the day when the kids were in school and I would buy and iced coffee or a soda and an ice cream...
The best comfort that I found was the closeness that I felt to God during my darkest moments. Whether I be screaming or crying or desperate, if I continued to communicate with God, I did find comfort in His Word and arms.
I know for everyone their grief is different and so are the things that give us comfort.
Praying for you and hoping that you feel God's presence today and everyday. I love the song "He Giveth More Grace" by Annie Flint
He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.
Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.
His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.
Cheryl, You always have such good insight. Thank you. It is sunny here today. Maybe I'll go outside with my living children and the friends they have over. Maybe I'll take Eva with us in my pocket, in her urn (no one will know). When she was at the funeral home I visited her several times and once I took her outside in the sunshine. I'll always remember sitting in the grass holding my dead baby as traffic roared by, oblivious.
ReplyDeleteOh Em. I am just so, so sorry. I wish that Eva were here with you, to wear those blue butterfly hair bows to match her beautiful blue eyes.
ReplyDeleteThis post reminds me of a Leonard Cohen song, Anthem, that I wrote about on the twin's first birthday, the lyrics include the line 'there is a crack, a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in.' It makes a lot of sense to me. Our lost daughters cracked our hearts and minds open and perhaps that is the way for the light to reach us? Their light? Or perhaps that is just wishful thinking on my part?
I wish that I had taken Georgina's body outside. It pains me that her skin was never touched by sunlight. And that oblivious traffic, ah, how I wish it had all ground to a halt. For you and your daughter.
Thinking of you and your sweet girl. xx
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