She was here

Much of the time is surreal.  Did I dream Elena's entire existence?  She seems so long ago.  It is hard to grasp the words to explain.  It is sometimes hard to grasp her.  She is so glossed over, so ignored by most.  I think many people hope I will forget her, thinking it would be easier for me to just close that chapter and never look back so that I do not have to feel the pain (so they do not have to see the pain).  Sometimes I wonder, "Have I gone mad?"  Perhaps my mind just made it all up.  I stare at the memory display in my family room...the diminutive prints of her hands and feet, the certificate of her baptism, the photograph of my beautiful, tiny, living daughter.  No, she really did exist.  She truly was here.  I am not hallucinating. 

I look at the handkerchief with her name and birthday embroidered on it.  She would be two years old now.  I imagine she would have the chubby, rosy cheeks of a busy toddler, ready for a quick snuggle before continuing the hard work of a baby's play.  I touch the hanky with its pink embroidery, such an inadequate substitute for stroking those rosy cheeks.  I treasure it nonetheless.

And then there are the moments of soul-stabbing clarity.  I was able to sneak a nap with my Rainbow this afternoon.  I awoke a few minutes before him and cherished a quiet moment staring at his perfect face before it came crashing down on me.  My baby died.  She's really gone.  The instant it hit me made me feel like someone was standing on my chest.  I thought I would suffocate right then and there.  The weight of her absence was crushing, the pain as intense as if I was back in the hospital room watching my child die.  It hurt - physical pain accompanying the heartbreak, an ache that pierces all the way to the soul.

Oh, Elena, I miss you so very much my sweet baby girl!  I love you.