Friday, January 29, 2010

not over it

I came to write the other day, but ended up reading through my old posts instead.

I should know better. There is no better way to turn me into a sobbing mess than to revisit those darker days. The ache has evolved so much in the past year, but it is far from gone. Even now, with a healthy, warm, living baby who smiles at me every morning.

I have been struggling, this month, with the fact that I sort of let your birthday just slip by. I had big ideas for a celebration of your life, but then plans changed and we found ourselves out of town on the 9th, traveling around Seattle with Jesse's family and three week old Orrin. It wasn't until the evening, Jesse and I crammed into the back seat of the family van with Orrin in between, that the tears started to fall. Jesse was the only one who noticed, the only one who knew, and he took my hand and we cried together, heads bowed over our new boy sleeping in his carseat.

Look at this beautiful boy she sent us, he said, and I nodded. We promised ourselves we would do something to honor your birthday when we got home the next week, but we didn't.

We still haven't. And as the days keep slipping away, the timing seems less and less significant. Still, I find myself wanting to recognize your existence somehow. Perhaps I just didn't even give myself enough time to process the fact that it has actually been a YEAR.

I still have so much to process. This grief thing is far from over, but it is certainly taking on a new shape as we move forward.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

safe in my arms

Little brother Orrin arrived safely on December 16th--those who are interested can read the story on the family blog.

We are thoroughly immersed in the new baby daze, but it has not escaped me that it is January. Layla's birthday is in 3 days. In the quiet moments, which are so few and far between these days, I feel the grief lurking. But things are so wildly different now than they were last year at this time. My heart is so full, my arms are no longer quite so achingly empty, and that makes it easier. We have an appreciation for this healthy, thriving, beautiful little being that is unparalleled by those who have never known the other side. We are so completely aware of what a miracle he is, and we are so thankful.