So normally I keep this blog pretty focused on food, but for today I am going to be selfish enough to believe that all of you want to know about my person life. Thanks for indulging me. Today we celebrate three years since our twins Joshua and Adelaide came and left this earth. (If you haven’t heard our twins’ story feel free to read here, here, and here). In many ways it feels like a normal day. This picture of my almost two-year old daughter below epitomizes what today and what most of my days are like. Here she’s wearing my hat, that she took right off of my head. She’s too good for her clothes, and she’s insisting on kneeling on a big chair rather than sitting in her booster or high chair. Oh, and that’s new baby brother’s sippy cup that she commandeered within two minutes of me opening the gift. Poor kid won’t get anything new.
The difference between today and any other day, is that rather than being tired, or frustrated at my daughter’s antics, I am simply grateful for her fire. I am grateful that she’s here to challenge me every day, because today I remember all too clearly that one thing that is worse than a child who challenges you is one who is not here to challenge you. Today I am grateful to see that behind the strong will, that my daughter has a sweet and tender heart. My heart melted when she saw mama crying and proceeded to go get my blanket and pillow because I must be “tired.” It’s so hard to explain how my heart can feel so full and so broken at the same time.
It’s amazing how although I feel that time, (and prayer) have helped to heal my wounds, that somehow on this day every year it feels as though my wound has been opened just a little, and instead of ugly but painless scars, I am bleeding again, just a little. Parenting children who are no longer here is hard. Obviously not hard in the way it is hard to raise my daughter, but hard in it’s own way. Today we plan to celebrate by looking at pictures, eating cake, releasing balloons, writing letters, and remembering the special day when we welcomed two perfect children into the world. Life has been pretty crazy around here with Kyle in his 2nd year of dental school and me feeling like a single parent much of the time. I decided I would buy a store-bought cake to celebrate with tonight and felt a twinge of pain and guilt. Would I ever buy a storebought cake for my living child, even if we were busy? Why don’t I spend as much time thinking about Joshua and Adelaide as I do thinking about Bridget and her well-being? Most of the time my heart doesn’t dwell on these kinds of thoughts or questions, but today it does.
Today, though I have things to clean, pictures to edit, food to cook, and a to-do list to fulfill, I can’t help but just sit and think about my two sweet angel babies. Though, as I am sure is apparent in this post, I am feeling a bit gloomy, my overall thoughts and feelings toward them and toward this loss is one of gratitude. I am grateful that they taught me to slow down, and to enjoy every moment. I am grateful that they taught me to love with every fiber of my being. I so look forward to the day when we can all be a family again, but I feel their presence guiding me through every day, and for that I give thanks!
On a related, but slightly different note, this year for Josh and Addy’s birthday I had the chance to submit a letter to another blog. Letters for Sadie is a blog written by my good friend Sam. Sam and I grew up together and were best friends through our elementary school years. I remember lots of jamming to backstreet boys and b-witched, playing on soccer teams together, and mostly just enjoying a care free childhood. When I was in 6th grade I moved to a new town, and she moved shortly thereafter. While I remember talking on the phone a few times after we moved, eventually we drifted apart. In my high school and college years, I remember bumping into her a few times, and somewhere along the line we became facebook friends. I enjoyed seeing what she was up to, but we didn’t talk much. When she lost her sweet angel Sadie to stillbirth at 36 weeks my heart broke. I reached out to her, but it seemed so strange that the thing that brought us together was being a part of this awful infant loss club that no one wants to be a part of. It seemed like such a cruel juxtaposition compared to our carefree, childhood days together. But I have been grateful for the conversations we have been able to have about our experiences and our kids, and I can definitely see why I liked her so much growing up 🙂
Anyway, Sam decided to start a blog to help her cope with the loss of losing her daughter, there she writes letters to her daughter, but also shares letters written by others who are mourning their children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, whoever! It really is such a neat place to promote love for our angel babies and healing. I urge you to check it out, and if you feel so inclined contact her to post your own letter. She’s not scary, promise 😉 The website is http://lettersforsadie.blogspot.com/.
Joshua and Adelaide, “Because I knew you, I have been changed, for good.” I’m happy to be your mom!
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