7 years

It's been 7 years today since the worst, most horrible day of our lives. The night I will never forget. The weeks of shock with months of endless tears. Today, the kids and I had a private 'Eva's Ride' around our town, culminating in slushies for the kids and a coffee with Oma for mom. The day was not altogether terrible. And yet our grief remains. Our lives forever changed with the loss of you. We miss you everyday and yet smiles now joins our tears. This life, it's unexplainable. I will always love you my precious daughter; I anticipate the day my arms will enfold you once more.

Valentine

As I prepare Valentine treats tonight, for my other children, I hope Eva knows how much I love her and how much my heart longs to prepare treats for her too.

How I miss you my tender little girl.

Happy Valentine's Day my daughter.

💕

I can see it in their eyes.

I can see it in people's eyes. When they hear 2011. Two thousand and eleven. It's soo long ago. Practically another time.  Their eyes glaze over. Why do I keep talking about my child? Why do her brothers and (adopted) sister still mention her? Why don't you just get on with it Em? And I do. I really do get on with it.

But what I can't get over is that I can't believe it's 2016. To me, that's harder to believe than 2011 was so long ago. I can't explain how it feels like my life stopped in 2011. The world stopped turning (except it didn't). 

I still miss my little girl every single day. 

Sometimes I am happy and I find it hard verging on impossible to comprehend that I once held my heart's desire in my arms. And that I never will again.

Laughing still carries the weight of grief and wonder in that I can't believe I am able to laugh.

And then sometimes the grief comes and bites me so hard. 

Last week there was a baby dedication at our church. For a little girl. And then the sang the song we played at Eva's funeral. That kind of shit hits like nothing else. And I can't believe so many years have passed. Nobody even remembers anymore (except a very few for whom I'm thankful). So many in our church never met Eva.  Don't even know our large family is short one small but priceless member.

I seriously don't know how I keep on keeping on. How I've managed to kept it sort of together these past years.  How is it possible that it's 2016? How is it possible that people's eyes glaze over when they hear 2011?

I will hold you again

Life slowly and quickly moves on...

Sometimes I am driving and feeling okay. And then thoughts of you come in my mind. Sometimes you feel like a dream. I wonder if you ever really were part of this world. It seems unreal that I should have had you and lost you so quickly. I can't even imagine you as a five year old. But I know you were here and there is a hole in my heart the shape of you that hurts beyond belief even this many years later. I never thought it was possible to weep so much for someone so many years later. Some days I'm okay and some days it's like you died yesterday and all I want to do is scoop you up into my arms and hold you forever.  I don't want to die as I know I'm needed here and I truly love your brothers (and Josie) but the anticipation of living so many more years with this hole in my heart is horrible. The hardest part is there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it. Nothing.

I miss you baby girl. I wish you would come to me in a dream but I've given up hoping, even for that. 

I love you and I will hold you again, in heaven.

Mama

Spinning

Eva would be five this October 15th. 

It's a lot harder sitting here not getting ready for a birthday party then it is getting ready for one. I'd say this is a good case of the lead up is worse than the day itself. Cause so far, the lead up has been really crappy. 

My soul aches.

And it's Canadian thanksgiving. 

And I'm thankful. But sad too. So I've decided to quit thanksgiving. At least for this year. I just can't get it together to host a big meal, clean up and not prepare for a birthday party. Not preparing for a birthday party takes a lot out of a mama.

This October 14 Nathan will be exactly 2.5 years old. Had Eva lived she would have been exactly 2.5 years old when she would have met and held Nathan for the very first time.

Felix is over a year old. Things are changing. Spinning. 

I can't quite pinpoint the significance of it all but this feels like a big month somehow.

Eva's Ride. Again and then not.

Tomorrow is our fourth Eva's Ride.

As the landscape of our grief changes, so, too, do other things and one of these is Eva's Ride.  It's not that we love her less. If anything it's that our hearts just love her so much. It's that there is so much love and nowhere to put it.

So we have decided this is our last Eva's Ride.

Eva's Ride has been a big deal for me to organize. I start with thank you cards in March and I go to our usual sponsors and ask for hot dogs, t shirts, a bbq. It's not hard you know but people get tired of it. They get tired of being asked for stuff. And I don't want to be turned down. It would do me in.

And it's emotional. The cards, the hot dogs, the water, the bbq and it's all not that big a deal except that it's all in memory of my daughter. And it just.hurts.so.damn.much.

And I want to end it when people are still coming. End it before I have to beg people to come. End it before it's so in my face that nobody remembers. Or wants to remember.

I guess it's just time.

I do have some other things up my sleeve but they are much smaller scale and I can do it myself as I want to or need to

So stay tuned something is coming for her birthday in October. Small. But kind.

Much love from Eva's Mama.

The yearning.

I don't think the yearning will ever go away. The longing for the could have been. The missing of my little girl. The emptiness that fills me. The absence of her presence. 

Mostly, I'm okay but sometimes I stumble across an old message from someone. From a time that hope lived.  And I'm back there with her and all I want to do is scoop her up and hold her. Breathe her in and never let her go. 

Time does not heal all wounds. The scab gets tougher but sometimes it knocks up against the past and the pain is jarring. 

Today. Gosh I miss this little light of mine. My little sparkling Eva girl.

Sweet like Eva

Today. Today I had a moment of sweetness. Sweet like Eva.

Today I went to a little local kids clothing exchange shop. I brought some things and I stopped and looked through the racks as my little boys needed shorts. I looked through the girl clothes too, for Josie. And there I found a red shirt. Size 4. Just right for my dark haired, blue eyed Eva. Just right. And I looked at it and I didn't take it. And I thought of my girl and how cute she would have looked in that shirt.

The tears flow now as I remember and write, but in the moment there was sweetness in the clothes she would have worn. A sweetness that surprised me as I took a moment to caress the shirt she might have worn, had our lives been different.

My first taste of grief and sweetness on my tongue and in my heart.

I miss you little girl. Miss buying  you clothes and Christmas presents and feeling your little girl arms wrap around me. Miss your voice saying 'I love you'. Miss the Mother.'s Day Cards and little drawings. Miss the sticky summer popsicle hands. Miss the dancing under the sprinkler. Just miss you my little girl.

One day. One day we will dance together again. And I will hold you in my arms forever.

I miss you.

I just miss you little girl.

Nathan Evan is two.

This day two years ago I felt alive again for the first time since my youngest child stopped being alive with me. She would have been exactly 2.5 years old the day after Nathan Evan, her namesake was born. I am so thankful every day for this rainbow child of mine who saved my life.

I can't believe he's made it to two! But he has. I hope he makes it to three...and beyond.

Today we celebrate Nathan with a quiet family party. Hot dogs on a campfire. Chips. Some veggies with ranch dip. Cause ranch dip is this little guys favourite thing to eat.

And cake of course.

I wish I knew what Eva would have loved to eat. Besides breastmilk. I can't wait to find out in heaven one fine day.

May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He shine his face upon you and give you peace dear readers. 

All my love,

Em

Make a wish

There's a special kinda pain that stabs me when kids we know get to make a wish. Another thing Eva never got to do.

The empty seat

We went to a Passover Seder today. 

Unexpectedly the seat right across from me between Josie and my mom was empty. 

The plate stayed untouched. The bitter herbs wilted. Eva should have been there. 

I practically saw her if I squinted. 

As we went through the order of the meal I learned so much. The bread of affliction. The broken bread wrapped in linen. Jesus' body broken and wrapped in linen. So much foreshadowing. I truly am in awe. 

And my heart is still missing an essential piece.

I miss you so much my Eva girl.

 

Reconnected.

I went to the hospital Friday with baby Felix for a heart check. Nathan played with some trains. Samuel helped me so much pushing the babies around. I spent several moments bawling in various corners of the hospital. I just miss my little girl so much there. I know lots of bereaved parents hate going back to the hospital but I seem drawn like a moth to a flame. It burns me and my grief surfaces intensely. But I like reconnecting with my grief in some levels. I like that even though I'm normal at home. Even though I rarely weep at home. Even though sometimes I feel disconnected from my daughter at home I can go back there and dose myself in pain. Know that the non-pain is only superficial. She is still and always intensely grieved. The hospital just scrapes a little of the sheen off of me. Reconnecting with my heartache feels good. She is so intensely missed. I am still so sad even though I am also happy. I guess it's just strangely good to know it's still there. Always. 

Au revoir.

Dear fellows on the journey without our children. I fear the inevitable has happened and my posts here have dwindled down to virtually nil. I will still post occasionally. But if any of you would like to stay in more regular contact please comment with your facebook username or email. I prefer facebook tbh. I won't publish your comment but will either message you on Facebook or send you an email. This is not goodbye my friends, merely au revoir.

Another year closer to heaven.

We received many Christmas cards again this year. I continue to abhor the jolliness. The cards started trickling in in early December. I saved them all in a stack so I wouldn't have to torture myself opening jolly cards daily that speak only to the joy of the season. Gah, I would have thought the first Christmas without Eva would have been the worst (and it was) but as the years march on and she isn't missing from anyone's life but mine and my immediate family I hate Christmas more and more. I saved all the cards together hoping against hope that maybe just one card would put Eva's name on there in brackets or something and thus redeem the whole pile of cards. But no. Even cards where all the kids names were listed she was conspicuously absent (in my eyes only). At least I got it all over in one fell swoop thus saving me hours of extra pain. I hate this. I almost just threw them all in the trash without opening them but the stupid hope that someone would care enough to remember and use the ink to add three small letters to a Christmas card got the better of me and here we go again. I used to love Christmas cards. Saving them from year to year to read again as I got the decorations out for another season. Who was that person anyway? I can scarce recognize who I was nor who I have become. The loss of a child changes you in so many ways. A parents grief truly is like no other.

This year the cards went straight to the kids craft bin. In years past I might have burned them all, in my grief.

A friend of mine advertises on facebook to send cards to her son's stocking so they have something to open for him on Christmas day. I wonder if I should do the same? Pre empt the pain of Christmas cards.  May I steal your idea for next year Tiffany?

Well happy new year all! Another year closer to heaven.

Christmas houses.

Seven houses. Six kids. So many kids but still and always one missing.

Christmas magnifies everything. Missing you my little girl. Always and forever. 

Evas house.

Growing older.

I recently took this selfie of myself. In my bedroom in roughly the same spot I took the selfie of myself with Eva you see on the sidebar of this blog, almost four years ago now.

I'm pretty happy with how I look in this photo but I can see how I've aged in the last years. 

When I see how I have aged it only makes it more obvious how much my girl should have aged too.

I'm growing older but she should have been growing up. :,(

Remember

Capture your grief. Day 10. Support (and Eva's fourth birthday).

When Eva was sick we had an outpouring of support. When she died, that support continued, for about two months. And, just when I felt like I needed it most, people moved on with their lives...but some stayed and I was thankful, and years later, I realize that some is all I needed. 

Some left in a whirlwind of pain. 

One friend, Holly, was struggling with depression when Eva died. She came and sat on my couch with me for days and weeks. I don't even remember how much time she spent on my couch. And it was what I needed. Someone to just show up for me, and BE there. I told her once that I liked having her there because she wasn't too happy. Her depression and my complete lack of joy made us a not completely joyless match. The time after Eva's death cemented our friendship in the same way it shattered so many others.

On another note. Yesterday was Eva's fourth birthday.

 I redid her table.

The banner with her name on it on the bottom was made by Holly.

And here is Eva at six weeks old wearing that same corduroy dress.

And, oh, how I wish I could turn back time...even for just an hour...

I got my hair cut yesterday. Because, well, what do you on your dead daughter's birthday anyway? Although I must say I did think about how much I would have liked to take her to the salon with me. 

We had artichoke hearts with our supper last night for our heart girl. We also had sweet potatoes because she was so sweet. And angel food cake. The only day of the year when we eat angel food cake. My wee four year old girl, eating cake with the angels...how I miss you.

Altogether the day wasn't too terrible. 

Felix slept through most of it.

Samuel wrote about it in his journal. 

In addition to birthday candles we also lit a candle for October 15th stillbirth and infant loss day. The irony never ceases to amaze me that her birthday is on that day. 

Good night dear ones. May the day be brighter tomorrow. One day closer to heaven.

xx Em

The birthday girl will not appear.

It's in the silence of the night before your birthday that I miss you most. 

Tomorrow will be busy...it's tonight...

Tonight I should be piling your presents on the red plate. Starting your birthday cake so we could decorate it together tomorrow morning. Writing you a message on the chalkboard. Blowing balloons. 

But instead there is nothing to do tonight. So I do nothing. 

The birthday girl will not appear. I miss you my princess Eva.

 I wish I could go into your room and snap a picture of you sleeping. Our last moments with you as a three year old. But I cannot. And I miss you with every ounce of my being. I miss you.