One of my favorite memories with my mother is making cookies with her. I vividly remember the day she let me crack an egg myself for the first time. Making food together is a way that we bonded, and usually it was cookies or some other sort of sweet.
So when I found out Cora was a girl, one of the things I most looked forward to and dreamed about most was teaching her to make cookies. I still have an image in my mind.
Today my little Erin, who is nearly 3, asked me "Mommy, I make cookies witchoo?" I love that she loves to make cookies, too. As she was dumping the cupfuls of ingredients that I handed to her into the bowl, that image came back into my mind. The dream and the reality are very similar.
But my happiness I felt in spending time with my sweet little girl was echoed by the grief of
not getting to with her big sister. If Cora had lived, and I had somehow accidentally conceived Erin 5 months later, I would have been making cookies with 2 little girls today. I felt that hole. I hope she was looking down on us and smiling.
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