This week approaching your first birthday has been surprisingly difficult. I don't know why it has surprised me - really, I should have expected it. But I didn't. It hurts so much right now that you are not here. Usually, when I see little white butterflies playing in your garden, I smile. This week, they make me sad. Looking at your whole garden makes me sad right now, actually. I know it is the most beautiful resting place we could have given you, but its imperfection is irritating me. I know you don't care. I know you don't need perfection. Nor do you expect it from me. But this week, I want the absolute best for you.
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| Your garden in May |
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| Your garden today. More chaotic than I'd like. |
A year ago today you were alive inside of me. We don't know exactly when your spirit left your body, but we do know it was sometime between September 5th and September 8th. So on this day last year, you were still here. It will always baffle me how you could be here one minute and gone the next. I haven't really been consciously thinking about today's date as significant in this regard, but I'm sure it's tying into my general sadness this week.
All sorts of things have been making me cry. Aunt DeeDee's birthday is September 6th. Your Nana made a birthday cake for her and brought it to our family Labor Day party. When I saw the cake, the first thing in my mind was that your name should be on it, too. My aunts and uncles kindly asked how my current pregnancy is going, but all I wanted to talk about was you. Yes, your sister is getting big and my belly is huge, and yes, of course, I am grateful she is strong. But this week is about you. And all I want to tell anyone is that you would be turning one. I want to say, "My daughter Molly would be almost one."
School started this week, too. I've seen tons of First Day of Preschool and First Day of Kindergarten photos on Facebook. I don't begrudge all those parents celebrating these great moments, but of course all they make me think of is how you will never have any Firsts. No true first birthday with frosting in your hair. No first haircut. No first word or first steps or first day of school. No first school dance, no first volleyball game, no first love. And I have all sorts of firsts I don't want, starting with the completion of my first year without you.
I'm not painting a very happy picture, Molly, and I'm sorry for that. This is just how I feel this week. Missing the memories we should be making with you. What would you look like now? Would you be chubby like your brother was at one? Would you have blond hair like your Dada? Would you be walking? Would you have my eyes? How many teeth would you have? Would you know how to say "Mama?" I'll never know. What I do know is how much you and Cole would love each other. I know how happy you would make us. I know how your Dada would look at you. And I know that I would love kissing your baby toes and blowing on your tummy.
I have had a few lovely moments in the past few days when I really felt your presence. I saw a huge, gorgeous yellow and black butterfly at our family party on Sunday. Yellow is your color, and butterflies always make me think of you. I felt like you were telling me that you were there, giving me strength, just like always. I wish I had been able to get a photo, but I missed my chance. We also had to drive through a very intense storm on our way home. It was brief, but fairly scary. If it hadn't cleared when it did, we would have had to find a safe place to pull over. Luckily, it was a short storm. And then we saw the most beautiful rainbow I have seen in years. It stretched all the way across the sky and was incredibly bright. When I saw this lovely rainbow, I felt that both you and your sister were telling me that you are both ok, and even though its confusing that I wouldn't have her if you were here, you both know I love you and always will.
I love you so much, Molly. You will always be my second child, my first daughter, my beautiful, perfect baby. I know every year this week will be difficult for me, but I believe that it is not challenging for you. I know your spirit is free, and I know you are always with me. I feel you in your brother's snuggles, I hear you in his laugh, I see you in his smile. I see you in butterflies, rainbows, and Tess's hugs for your Dada. I feel you when I cry for you, when Cole, Dada, and I laugh together, and when we sing along to any of our "Molly songs." I miss you more than I can ever explain, and yet I know you will never truly be gone. I am so proud to be your Mama. I love you.
Love,
Mama
Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.
~Lilo and Stitch
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