Yesterday my second son turned 5. Not only did Eva never have a first birthday, she never celebrated Vincent's birthday with him.
Vincent was 3 when Eva died. Now he is 5. I hate how my kids are growing, growing up, up and away from my girl. She is always a baby to them. Even though she should be turning a happy two on the 15th of this month (and for a double whammy there, the 15th is also pregnancy and infant loss day, oh joy).
I miss her so much. Not only do I miss the baby she was but I miss the almost-two-year old she should be. I miss seeing her smile in wonder at balloons. I miss seeing her push a bowling ball down the lane at her brother's birthday party yesterday. I even miss potty training her. I miss the mom I used to be who could laugh all the time. Now I cry every day for the sweetheart that is not with me. When I was making Vincent's cake (a turtle) I wondered what kind of cake I would have made for Eva. A flower or a ladybug, probably. Samuel said this morning that we should have a butterfly cake for Eva's birthday. He's right.
At Vincent's party all the kids got a balloon in their favourite colour. I also bought a pink one for Eva. When we left the bowling alley Samuel wanted to send his balloon to Eva. We let it go and up, up, up it flew. As I watched it go Samuel said that it wouldn't really go to heaven. It would pop when it got really high *sigh*. But as I tried to follow it with my eyes as it got smaller and smaller and more and more unreachable it was painfully obvious to me how far away it was going and how there could be no way I could just jump up and grab the string. Tethering it to earth once more.
I so often wish things were different. Some days more than others.
And here I am the day after Vincent's golden birthday (5 on the 5th). And so often yesterday I couldn't help but think that a golden birthday is another thing that Eva won't get to have.
15 on the 15th.
I can only imagine the beauty she would be.