Six Months


Dear Eve,

Six months.  Today, it is six months since we held you for the first and last time.  Since you arrived in body, but an empty body, your soul already living somewhere far better.

I am happy that you are with God, precious firstborn, curly-haired daughter.  I would not have you give up Heaven for my arms.

But I miss you.

Every night, I think of you.  Of how it felt when you fell from my body.  Of how still, how silent you were when your daddy showed you to me for the first time.  Of how deeply the sweetness and sadness of you pierced me.  Of how afraid I was, of the future.  Because how could we survive when you had died, so suddenly and without cause?

But surviving we are.  Surviving because it is our only option, besides despair.  But when we know that you are with God, and that we will join you one day, how can we not press on past despair?

Even though sometimes survival feels impossible.  It seems impossible that we are still alive.  That I have lived six whole months without you.  I have dreaded this day, and yet here it is.  It crept up, gentle and soft as your skin.

I don't mind that it is here at last, I suppose.  It is just another day to remember you, just as the memory of you permeates my every moment.

But still.  It is hard.  Do you know how much I miss you?  Do you know that I am carrying the baby who I think is your baby brother, living the same space within me where you lived and died?

That reality is strange, too.  How is any of this possible?  Is this truly the life that I am living?

It is.  And it is a daily challenge.  But not without blessings.

It is a blessing to have had you in my life, sweet girl, even if it was for so short a time.

It is a blessing to know that God is using all of this for His glory and my good.

It is a blessing to be hoping for a second child, even when the hoping is hard, and even though I know that it is probable that his life will highlight your death, unlike what many might think.

It is a blessing to be married to your father, to be walking through this with him.  I wish you could have known him in this life.

It is a blessing to be alive, even though it hurts.

It is a blessing that we all belong to God, and so death is not the end, but a beginning.

You are a blessing, baby girl.

Happy half-birthday, my daughter who Lives.

your mama

Baby Girl November 20, 2011-12

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