September 16, 2003
I'd prepared "party favors" of three Hershey kisses (one for each hour of her life outside of my womb) wrapped up with a note saying "Marie is blowing you kisses from Heaven".
For a long time I’ve wondered how I would feel as I prepared for this unusual day. Would I feel festive? Bittersweet? Full of grief? At times, I’ve felt each one. These emotions, plus many others, are combined. Sometimes the emotions overlap and intertwine with each other.
Knowing that it isn’t necessary to select a special gift for the guest of honor is of course heartbreaking. For a moment I wonder, “What would be your favorite toy? Would you like your birthday cake?” But then I remember, you were not destined to be here today. You were designed for something very different. So my thoughts quickly shift from your gift, probably in an effort to protect my fragile emotions. In the midst of all this I’ve received a surprise. I’ve realized that even though today is your day, instead I have become the recipient of that special gift.
You’ve given me an unending gift of memories. . .memories of your tiny body moving inside mine, memories of listening to your heart beat below mine, and memories of finally seeing your sweet face and hearing your beautiful voice. Memories of you in your brother’s and sister’s arms. Our family photo.
But more importantly you’ve given me a gift of new life. Because of you, I am able to see things differently. I am able to take on challenges more boldly. I am more confident in myself and what I can do because of you. Giving you life was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And because I did it, and believe I did it well, I have a strength that didn’t exist before you.
Joy is more colorful now because of the darkness I felt after your death. I look forward to my eternal life with Jesus with a whole new perspective. And the cross has deeper meaning to me, as your eternal life is a tangible connection to our Heavenly Father’s sacrifice.
I’ve just begun to unwrap this gift, and mother‘s instinct tells me you have more surprises on your list.
Long ago, I learned to write thank you notes after receiving a gift. I hope I can live my life as a thank you note to you. And by doing that, I hope you see that it truly is better to give than to receive.
Mommy
September 11, 2003
A year ago today we decided it was time to meet you.
My body was preparing for your birth and we scheduled your arrival.
Our country was observing many heroes.
***
Today I took your brother and sister to school.
I ran some errands and got a speeding ticket on my way to pick Silas up.
Our country is still observing its heroes.
September 14, 2003
A year ago today Daddy told family and friends you would be arriving soon.
We had a special prayer at dinner with the family; lots of tears.
Grandma and I went shopping and I bought your birthstone earrings to wear while you were being born.
***
Today your flowers decorated the altar at church, a few people mentioned your birthday week.
It was very silly at dinner with the family; lots of laughter.
I am still wearing your birthstone earrings.
September 16, 2003
A year ago today we woke up after hardly sleeping.
A year ago today we joyfully welcomed you into our lives.
A year ago today I held you in my arms.
A year ago today I heard your sweet, sweet cry.
A year ago today you winked at us your whole life.
A year ago today your daddy and I held you as you slipped away to Heaven.
***
Today I woke up thinking, “I can’t hold you.”
Today we received gifts in your memory - a lovely website and a bench at Abigail’s playground.
Today I received beautiful cards and flowers from people remembering you.
Today your TV show was sent to the PBS syndicators.
Tonight we had a party for you. I spoke about you in front of people!
Tonight you blew kisses to everyone at your party.
Tonight we released balloons to you.
September 19, 2003
A year ago today I buried my daughter.
A year ago today my hair dryer died as I was getting ready for your funeral.
A year ago today I held the door open as the funeral home guy carried your casket into the church.
A year ago today I held myself together beautifully for your service and luncheon; people said I was ’stoic’.
A year ago today it was so beautiful outside I took pictures of the fields on the way to the cemetery.
A year ago tonight my body was prepared to feed your hungry lips.
A year ago tonight was the saddest night of my life.
***
Today no one mentioned your burial.
Today life appeared normal to everyone else.
Today I took flowers to the couple who prepared your lovely funeral luncheon.
Today it was cool and rainy; hurricane Isabel remnants.
Today there were leaves peppering the grass.
Today your big sister said, “I’m so glad we sent those balloons to Heaven.”
Today people made comments like, “This is our wedding anniversary” and “One month from today is so-and-so’s birthday”.
Today I kept thinking, “I buried my daughter a year ago today.”
Today I feel joy about your life; the smiles are mixed with the tears.
…Tonight I will remember being sadder than I’ve ever been.
The anniversaries are over…
When I say that, I feel relief mixed with sadness.
Relief that I won’t feel the need to ‘remember’ each moment or event in a formal manner.
But sadness, that now the anniversaries are of the grief, rather than the joy.
September 20, 2003
Celebration of Life
Story