Daughter – A Special Word

by Brendon

It’s been a while since wrote my last "guest post" here. So much has happened since my previous post in the fall, and I’ve been sitting back reading Debra’s beautiful, heartfelt words. But, as with most dads who have experienced a loss like ours, a lot has been going on in my head too, perhaps more quietly. Over the past couple weeks, we marked my 37th birthday, Father’s Day, and the 23-week mark in our pregnancy, so maybe I’m feeling a bit reflective.

Something I’ve learned is that “daughter” is an emotionally powerful word for me for a reason that’s hard to fully understand. I can’t explain why. It just is. I felt it when we were pregnant with Molly. I felt when I held her lifeless body in my arms. And I feel it with this little girl. The warm sound of the word and the feelings that come with it are unique. I didn’t know if we’d ever have a daughter, much less two, even if one of them isn’t with us on Earth.

Bonding with Ella - 11/4/07

I know I will have a lot to learn about raising a girl along the way, but I can’t wait for the challenge. (I wasn’t particularly good at figuring out girls when I was growing up, but hopefully figuring out how to raise a girl will be more successful.)  Part of it may be the connection I’ve developed with my two wonderful nieces. I adore both Ella (6) and Tess (1) and the moments I get with them. With Ella, who is also my goddaughter, we bonded one day when she was about 12 months old. Debra and I were babysitting her one night, and Ella suddenly snuggled up against my arm on the floor and fell asleep. We’ve shared a special connection ever since, full of giggles, making funny faces, and general silliness. With Tess, she fell asleep in my arms after her brother's First Communion when she was about 5 months, and since then she’s given me some of the best running hug greetings an uncle could hope for. Sometimes it’s like Tess is carrying a bit of Molly with her that she squeezes into me with her hugs. I’m grateful that both of first bonding moments with my nieces were caught on camera so I can remember them.

Bonding with Tess - 4/21/12

We had another ultrasound today, and everything looks great with our new little girl. We no longer take anything for granted, but I’m optimistic and hopeful. Being 23 weeks pregnant with a girl, after losing Molly last year, it’s an interesting mental balance with its share of head games.

I’m feeling the excitement and anticipation of our baby girl’s pending arrival. I want to hold her right now, keep her safe, and give her everything I have to give. I look forward to that first bonding moment with my own girl, followed by a lifetime of silliness and tight squeezes. 

At the same time, I’m not letting this wonderful new blessing take anything away from Molly. I don’t want this to lessen that sense of loss or make me think about her less. I still think about Molly on a daily basis and talk to her regularly. Her name shows up in random places, like in an old Richard Scarry book that I bought for Cole because it was a childhood favorite of mine. I see her in an unexpected half-rainbow that appears in a sunny sky on my birthday, or in rays of sun peeking through the clouds during an afternoon at the pool. Cole gives us unexpected reminders too, like the other day at the pool when he randomly told Debra, “I wish Molly could swim with us. She’d get all wet.” I often listen to a “Molly” playlist I created, full of songs that remind me of her and bring my emotions to the surface where I can make sense of them (something I’ll talk about more someday in a future post).

I don’t want this new child to be seen as a replacement for Molly, which may be why I’m hesitant to use the common term “rainbow baby.” It’s true that this girl would not be with us without Molly’s death, but I never want her to feel defined by her sister’s passing. She deserves her own unique place in this world and in our hearts. And yet, I hope that she will somehow feel a connection to her sister and will someday understand Molly’s significance in our family.

These days, I see Cole sweetly playing with his little cousin Tess, standing on our couch next to her and laughing with her about the squirrels outside, or sticking up for her at the pool when some other boy tries to take a toy from her. It’s so cute, and it makes me proud of my son, knowing what a wonderful big brother he is and will be. It is a reminder of where our family would be if Molly were with us. It’s a glimpse of a future that we’re waiting a little longer than expected to find.

Which leads me to Cole, the most wonderful son I could have ever hoped for. Not to say he doesn’t have his “three-year-old moments” to deal with, but I absolutely love this clever, imaginative, funny, brilliant, handsome boy with everything in my soul. Now that we know we’re having a girl, I’m partially happy just for the fact that at bedtime I can still honestly and without any guilt tell Cole that he is my favorite boy in the whole world.

Through all of this, I hope that Molly is watching it all from Heaven, understanding of our thoughts, emotions and love with more wisdom there than I can possibly have myself here on Earth. She is my daughter, every bit as much as her sister will be. Whatever it is about that word, “daughter,” I think Molly can’t help but feel its impact on me. And I pray that her sister comes out healthy and happy, to enjoy a lifetime of taking advantage of that word. Her daddy will be a sucker for it every time.

Brendon

"There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself."
~John Gregory Brown