Right Where I Am 2012: One Year, Two Weeks, Three Days

Still Life With Circles is hosting a blog link-up to talk about where individuals are in their journey after losing a child.  I decided to participate, so here goes... 

(although I just found it today, the link-up actually started on Elena's first birthday - to see where I was then, see her birthday blog entry)

It has been one year, two weeks, and three days since I last held my precious daughter.  I still ache for her.  I doubt that ever goes away.  This morning I was trying to organize baby toys and clothes, packing away things that my son (almost three now) has outgrown.  I have lots of boxes of clothes for him, and it is a little bittersweet (but mostly sweet) to reminisce about how quickly he has grown from his preemie days.  My first baby is not a baby anymore.  I found my box of baby girl clothes.  I couldn't bear to go through the box, full of outfits that Elena never had a chance to wear.  I hope someday to be able to use the clothes for a little sister for Elena, though I know it will be difficult that they will be "hand-me-downs" that still have the tags attached.  For now they sit untouched in a single box (she should have had at least a couple of boxes of outgrown clothing by now).  As I packed away the outgrown toys, I couldn't help but feel cheated.  Those toys should still be seeing use today.  Elena would be old enough to play with them now.  I try not to dwell on the "should be's," and I try to remain positive and optimistic.  My son deserves a happy childhood, and I need to be a role model for him of how to deal with grief, how to handle whatever circumstances life hands to us with dignity and grace.  I try; sometimes I'm not so sure how successful I am. 

I do know that I teach him to remember and love his baby sister, and most of the time I do feel somewhat successful there.  This morning he saw a hot air balloon in a video.  He asked what it was, and I tried to explain to him how it worked.  He said that he wanted to fill it with hot air and send it to heaven to Elena, and that she would send it back to him, and it would be a game they could play together.  Moments like those make my heart swell with pride and break with longing for what could have been.  My little boy shouldn't have to invent games to play with his sister in heaven - he should have her here in our home where they could play together.  I am so proud of him.

Today, one year, two weeks, three days (1,2,3), I am surviving.  I think of Elena often each day.  Although I ache for her, most of the time thinking of her makes me smile.  The tears still flow, but somehow they don't sting quite as badly as they once did.  I am forever her mom, and I love her and am thankful to have had the brief time I did with her.  I have hope in my grief that I will embrace my sweet princess again someday and live eternally with her and my Lord in heaven.