Full of joy. Ha.

Several young men in our community have died this past week in motorcycle crashes, car crashes, and off road crashes. I look at my four, hopefully soon to be five, reckless boys and wonder which one(s) will see heaven before me. It feels like the odds are stacked against me that at least one of them will be involved in some sort of fatal crash. Of course, that's if cancer doesn't get them first. Oh yes, I'm full of joy this week.

On baby boys, big Eva, and little Eva.

On this new baby I'm carrying. I have to admit I'm a little resentful he's another boy. And, boy do I feel bad about that. But the truth is usually ugly. So there you have it.

Another part of me completely adores the name I hope Mike agrees to name him with me. The name feels so absolutely just right. It's a name I've loved for years but we just never used it, for one reason or another, for any of our many boys. I've always felt like that name was missing, somehow. And the meaning is perfect and true so it seems right this time, for this boy. But, well, I guess we'll see...


It just feels sometimes like the whole world gets to have their girl, except me. I know that's not true but I never claimed rational thought when it comes to little girls.

I stopped in to visit my mom tonight. She has an elderly neighbour who is named Eva. When our Eva was alive we called them big Eva and little Eva. I have not really spoken to this big Eva since our little Eva died. Tonight she was out in the garden and I spoke to her. But it was hard to look her in the eye and I did not once say her name. It hurts too much. This elderly lady with the same name as my wee baby girl. And I resented her. Resented her for drawing breath at seventy when my little Eva never even saw seven. Resented her for having the name Eva for seventy years longer on earth.

I wonder if big Eva ever remembers the little Eva I used to tote along...

The beginning of the end again...

We went to family camp with our church this year. I kept myself slightly removed but I was there, and that's progress. I guess.

Friday night of family camp I brought Eva to our local hospital. Father's Day 2011 she was airlifted to the Stollery children's hospital.

The weekend wasn't terrible but I am keeping my grief to myself more. I wept during every campfire singing but sat on my cabin step out of sight of peering eyes. I don't need anyone's arms around me. I only need Eva. And nobody can give me that.

But I was still touched by kindnesses shown me during the weekend. People saying they remembered. It means a lot, somehow.

Father's Day was not as bad as it could have been. But I hurt for Mike. I know he longs for his child too. And it's hard to have the day that is the beginning of the end of our time with Eva be on Father's Day. It takes the joy out of it all.

But altogether, there was surprisingly less pain this year than the last two. I always hesitate to write that kind of stuff for fear that some stupid person will think that Eva doesn't matter anymore. Because she does, and, oh what I would give to have her back.

Kids lined up waiting their turn on the sand swing. The first little girl on the left is younger than Eva would be now. Eva should have been keen on the sand swing this year.

Samuel flying through the air on the sand swing.

Samuel turned eight on Saturday June 14th. 

The kids painting fish and lobsters.

Theodore thought it was so cool that his feet fit inside this trunk. He insisted I take his photo.

I painted this on an old picnic table that was already paint splattered while the kids painted their fish. I didn't ask permission and it felt so good to paint this. Painting feels good. Even something simple like this. She is always with us. 

If it happened again...

My friend, Lena, came to visit Eva and I when Eva was in PICU. She said that the more children you have the more chance you have of heartbreak.  At the time I flippantly replied that you also have more chance of having some left.

I had no idea at that time what a huge and gaping wound losing just one of my precious children would feel like.

Sometimes I look at my children that I have left and I wonder which one will get sick and/or die next. I think about the pain and how I will or won't cope. Would it be easier or harder since I have walked this road before?  

Would I keep my mind or would that be what sends me over the edge into insanity?

Daily I struggle to find joy in the simple things of life now. Would I ever find joy again?

I think now I know I would survive because now I know that no matter how much I can will myself to die somehow I just keep breathing.  And that is the crux of it.  Against all will, wishes, desires, prayers, I would continue to live.

A happy post, for a change.

Lately, as in the last few days, I've been feeling pretty good. Can't get enough of Nathan and his baby love.   Can't wait to meet our newest little guy. Allowing myself to anticipate his arrival and bought a car seat the other day as the one we've used for Vincent, Theodore, Eva and Nathan will be expired.  Gave me a thrill to imagine the baby in there. I've been researching cribs too because we're running out of space here. I'd like to try a mini crib as baby will squeeze into Josie's office bedroom with no closet. Anyone ever used one?

One of the lies I believed.

Today Samuel, Vincent, Theodore were so rambunctious at church. Hitting, whining, fighting, crying that I felt literally overwhelmed to tears with the not knowing what to do with them...and then satan whispered in my ear that everyone in church could see that Eva died because it's obvious I can't even take care of the kids I have. I knew it was a lie but it buried itself into me and took root in my heart so stubbornly that the tears just kept coming. I wondered if that was the truth, even while I knew that it was a lie. I really felt like satan got the better of me as I struggled through the myriad of emotions inflicted upon me today.

The sting of little girls.

For awhile, when I was so sure this boy I'm carrying was a girl I could handle baby girls again. When we found out he was a he I was sad and disappointed but I got over it, I am truly looking forward to meeting our boy. But time has done what it does best and moved on. And as it moves on I am finding little girls harder and harder to deal with again. As Eva would have grown older so does the age in which I find little girls hard. Now any girl age three and a half or younger is hard. This is not something I anticipated. This missing of my daughter as she grows...

This sorrow I carry. It does not fade. It changes and I can deal, most of the time, pretty well but this sorrow travels with me always. I read on another blog that mama couldn't let the sorrow overcome her or she would miss out on the time with her two other daughters. I thought this was well said. I try to not let the sorrow overcome me but the pain of missing Eva is just so strong I'm not sure I can really manage that.  I am never, ever completely happy. There is always a tinge of sorrow. Some days more some days less but as I journey through missing Eva there is always sorrow and I miss that girl more than I can describe.

Today Samuel asked me why I want so many pictures of Eva. I said it's because I don't get to hold her or talk to her and then we played around with what we might say to our breathing Eva if she was here..."be quiet Eva, wash your hands Eva, Eva sit still, Samuel you can hold Eva's hand for children's story, go potty Eva, eat your food Eva" and as I spoke those words with Samuel I realized how little I get to actually say her name. How much my soul aches to say her name in everyday situations. I hate this constant aching.

I am not the only one who has suffered or will suffer the loss of a child. There are no guarantees in life but I have to live with my own road of sorrow and grief and one thing I've learned on this road is that others may share the road with you but you walk alone. Grief is a lonely walk.

I know this isn't true but I felt like God owed me a girl of my own. A girl that might look like Eva. A girl part me and part Mike. Apparently God has different ideas anyway and,besides, I know he owes me nothing. I had hoped that a baby girl of my own would take the sting out of little girls for me but that is not meant to be and so, baby girls, little girls...they sting.

A few people have said to me they hope I have lots of granddaughters but that does not lessen the sting any because those grand daughters will not be the daughters of my daughter.

I'm realizing that I just have to learn to live with the sting of little girls. It's not what I anticipated in this life.