Remember

‎"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died -- you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift."--Elizabeth Edwards

As time goes by...

...I have learned a lot about this grief journey.  It's a long one.  I keep trying to remind Baby Loss friends, and myself by extension, that you're never really "done."  Unlike most journeys, there's no real destination.  There's no point, at least not while I'm alive, when the grief will go away.  It'll always be there.  Do I live my life? Yes.  Do I find joy? Yes.  Will I ever stop hurting for Cora? No.  Not ever.  Not until I get her back into my arms.

I'm so glad I have other children to experience this life with, but having them won't ever bring her back.  They do not fill that Cora-shaped hole in our family and in my heart.  Those dreams I dreamed while pregnant with her were not for any child, they were for her, that specific child.  I could have 100 children, and do all those things with them that I planned do do with her, but I will never get to do them with her, and that hurts so very much.

I've gotten good at ignoring the pain most of the time.  I go about life, focused on the three sweet babies that need my utmost attention here, enjoying almost every moment (because I'll be brutally honest, I don't enjoy cleaning vomit up off my floor [Patrick was sick a couple days ago]...there are just some motherhood moments are just not enjoyable).  But that doesn't mean that the pain, the grief, the missing-Cora has gone away.  It's an old injury now, one that I have learned to live with.  But I do have those stormy nights where it steals my attention and it hurts like the day she died.  The intensity of the pain has not lessened with time, merely the focus I give it throughout my day.

But apparently it's one of those moments where the weather is changing, and the old wound throbs.  I miss her.  And I miss even the hard mommy moments that I never got with her.  Because, as much as I don't enjoy them, I'm glad I have them, because it means I get the great ones too.

If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away...

We were out eating lunch today, and Erin started talking about sisters.  She told me she had one sister, and I explained to her that she actually had two, because Cora was her sister as well as Allison.  She knows about Cora, but I guess it just hasn't registered that she's her sister too.  Anyway, she asked if we could go visit her (which reminded me of the song at the end of this post).  I had to explain that you can't go visit Heaven, it's just not possible.  That made her sad, and with a little pout she said to me "I miss her, Mommy."

Through the tears I could only answer, "I miss her, too."  *sigh*

The scrapbook

I have been scrapbooking since I was 13 years old.  I love it.  I love having a record of my life.  But you know what I hate?  It illustrates everything that I'm missing out on with Cora.  I'll never get to see her play in the snow, or dress up stuffed animals, or read to her siblings.  I'll never get holiday celebrations, or first days of school, or prom or graduation or wedding.

I was robbed of all of that.  And while I LOVE everything I'm experiencing with my living children, and recording our memories, I hate that I only ever add to Cora's book on her birthday or in October for the Walk to Remember.  And she's never in those pictures.

So while I love to scrapbook...sometimes I hate it too.

Sherlock...another good quote (could contain spoilers)

So, Matt and I watched the 3rd episode of the 2nd series of the show Sherlock the other day.  The episode starts with Watson saying his best friend was dead, and ends with him standing in front of Sherlock's gravestone in tears.

He said "I want you to do one thing for me.  Don't be dead.  Just stop it.  Stop it right now."

I can't tell you how often I've said those exact words.  "Just don't be dead."


*sigh*

I miss her.

There's not really much else to say.  It's not the knifing grief I get some days.  It's more wistful now.  I just miss her.

Thank you National Geographic

I was watching a documentary on King Tut the other day. ("King Tut's Final Secrets" if you're interested.  I found it on Netflix)  It was mostly about the CT scan on his mummy trying to figure out once and for all definitively why he died, but they also mentioned the contents of his tomb.  They talked for several minutes about the two mummified babies.  For some reason Howard Carter thought the smaller one was stillborn and the larger died shortly after birth but you can't really tell that from the mummies.  Both were smaller than a full term baby.  Anyway, in talking about this, they described the babies' deaths as "terrible tragedy" and it was so nice (especially in light of comments and controversy around the stillbirth of little Jubilee Duggar) to have it recognized as a tragedy when a baby dies.


They also ended the documentary with a quote, that sums up the reason why I write this blog, the reason why I do things in my daughter's name:


‎"To speak the name of the dead is to make him live again. It restores the breath of life to he who is vanished." ~Egyptian Book of the Dead