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.