Saturday, January 12, 2013

missing evie

The 8th and 9th of each month are a little difficult for me - one is Evie's birthday and one marks her Heavenly birthday.  This month she would have been two months.  She would have been getting really good at holding her head up, smiling and cooing a lot, and maybe even waking up less at night.  

Instead though, she has been in Heaven for two months.  I wonder what she has done and who she has met and what she likes to do there.  I wonder if she knows about her family down here and how much Mommy misses her.  But I do know she is safe and secure and loved.

But no matter what I still miss her.  I miss her terribly.  I think about her all the time, just as often as I think of Micah; she is my baby and I will probably never go one day without thinking of her.  Most certainly not anytime soon.  Sometimes people comment that it seems  like these two months have passed by so quickly.  Not to me.  I have felt every day drag by.  

Every part of my day reminds me of Evie.  Since learning I was pregnant with Baby #2 last March I had been picturing the fun things I would do with my two sweeties.  There is not one aspect of my mommy life that I hadn't imagined being permeated with a new love.  


Sometimes I let myself pretend.  I let myself pretend that she's here.  

While I am snuggling Micah to sleep around 7:30/8:00 pm every night I sometimes try to imagine what it would be like if, after I had tucked him in, I had a cooing little pink bundle waiting for me.  I would probably nurse her and spend some special mommy-daughter time with her.  She would probably watch me clean the kitchen from the little froggy bouncy-seat that used to be Micah's.  And I imagine sometimes I would stop what I was doing and turn around just to stare at her cuteness.
Photo courtesy of Kyla from Tossie's Tree and Painted Rocks

When Micah and I play outside and go for walks I wish I was wearing my baby Bjorn filled with my Evie-girl.  And I wish she was there to watch her brother and I know he would make her laugh and smile, maybe better than even I could!

Micah and I usually wave goodbye to Josh from the front door anytime he leaves.  When we found out we were pregnant I couldn't wait until there were three of us saying goodbye to the daddy we love so much.  How I wish it were so!

Micah often sweetly snuggles his stuffed animals and tucks them into bed.  My heart always aches when I see that, wishing with all my might that he could be doing that with his baby sister.

When I am driving I sometimes let me heart pretend that instead of one carseat in the back there are two and one holds my bubby talkative two-year old and the other holds my sleeping two-month old rocked into slumber by the lull of the car ride.

When we are in public I wish I had two kids to juggle and that people would ogle over my girlie's chubby cheeks and big blue eyes.  

When we're at church standing and singing during the worship time I wish so badly that I had my baby all snuggled close to me in her baby sling.  And then at some point I would have to sneak out and nurse her.  I wanted all of that so badly.

I can hardly walk past a baby girl's clothing section without a huge knot developing in my throat.  

And honestly I still can't hold babies yet.  Not that I don't love my friends and their babies and am so happy for them, it's just so hard.  The thought of it makes me want to cry.  I don't have baby fever - I have Evie fever.  I don't want to hold anyone's baby or even another one of my babies; I want one specific baby who is now in Heaven and will never return.  The pain is so real and so raw.  

Friends often express their desire to talk to me about Evie but not make me sad unnecessarily.  They wonder if I'm having a "good moment" and speaking of Evie would turn that moment into a bad one.  Let me just say that I am never not thinking about Evie and there is never a time when I don't want to talk about her.  Since she isn't here speaking about her is the only way to make her feel present and to keep her memory alive.  I absolutely love talking about my girl just as any parent loves talking about their child.  Imminent tears don't mean I want to avoid speaking of Evie, not one bit.  

Missing Evie is just a part of my life now.  Missing her is a part of the cross the Lord has now asked me to bear.  I can only hope that one day I can comfort a mommy who is walking a similar road to the one I have walked and testify of the Lord's great goodness and mercy.  Despite the sadness He is still an ever-present help in my trouble (Psalm 46:1).

18 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. And to you Megan. I know Faith's "monthaversary" is coming up soon <3

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  2. I know that feeling. I had it this morning, so I went for a walk. The sun was hiding behind the clouds so I couldn't take rock sunrise photos. I decided to take a walk around the park. At the bottom of the hill was a nursing home- I hadn't visited in over a year. So I went in to see my old friend and spent an hour with her. She didn't know about Tossie and she asked about her. I told her and had to fight back tears. Not a day goes by that I don't long for her. My friend had to go to her exercise class so we cut the chat short. As I was getting ready to leave she handed me a yellow and orange bracelet that she had made herself and gave me a hug.

    Hugs, Love and Prayers to you <3
    ~Kyla

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    1. The pain is undeniably real. Remembering sweet Tossie with you <3

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    2. You have been in my thoughts and prayers today!

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  3. I love you Sarah and I am so sorry. I pray for you all the time. I know that feeling - time just stops and the world drags by and an excruciatingly slow pace. There's nothing I can say to make it feel better - I just want you to know that I'm standing with you and hurting for you. <3

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    1. Thank you Lauren. You are a great example of 2 Corinthinans 1:4 - comforting others with the comfort you have been given.

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  4. We lost our first baby and our oldest daughter's twin 14 years ago. I never wanted to stop thinking about them either. I remember when Mary was a baby wishing all the time Megan was there with her and wondering if she knew the loss too. I wish there was a way to share like this back then, but it was a lot of alone time with God, a LOT, that got me through that season--and yet I never completely got through the loss either. I saved hospital bracelets and put ribbons on them. They go on the tree every year with the kids ornaments and I mourn a little every time. It is pain, but good pain. They were real an I really miss them even though I never knew them.

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    1. Thank you so much for sharing your heart with me Rachael. It is amazing how much we can love babies we never really knew. But as their mommies, I think we did know them.

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  5. I love you. I will happily listen and cry and hug and look at pictures and dream and hurt and celebrate, with you. Her little life was so anticipated - so treasured - it does indeed feel wrong for her to not be in all those moments.

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    1. Thank you Whitney. I would love to share my sweetie with you sometime.

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  6. Dear Father, I ask that you meet Sarah in her pain and grief and be the God of all comfort. Help all of your children who grieve over the "missing pieces" in their lives to draw close to you and lean in for some "snuggle time." When a particular missing piece pains us deeply, help us to experience that "there is no pit so deep that You are not deeper stil." (C. Ten Boom)
    Glad to pray for your tender heart,Sarah, and for a measure of healing in the here and now.
    Hugs,
    JoAnn

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    1. Thank you JoAnn - I always love reading your words.

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  7. {Well, you know me and my quotes;-)}...I really like this one, because I think it realistically expresses how real the pain stays. Even though "they say" time changes that...I'm not really quite sure that it does. Not to the extent that we want or think. Not to the extent that everything's normal again. Things will just never be the same in this world, because that chubby-cheek little girl is not in it. So please know that every time I see you, I do remember your sorrow with you. And that little baby who was perfectly perfect in so many ways will always be remembered by us, and we see her through you. She helped shape her Momma's heart. So we will always see her. Hurting for you, remembering her small life so fondly. I'm glad we got to see her, and know her a little while. It was too short.

    "I can think of no more ridiculous custom than expressing sympathy once and for all on a given day to a person whose sorrow will endure as long as his life." Marcel Proust

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  8. Thank you! This really means so much. And I love that quote ... have never heard it before but I think it has become one of my favorites just now. <3

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