Today is March 10. My baby girl left this world one month ago today.
We went to her grave today. I put indigo delphiniums and baby’s breath on her grave. We read Scripture. I tried to read Ps 30 out loud, but dh had to finish it for me. I could not find my voice through the tears. Ty and I and the children stood in a circle and prayed over her grave. We prayed for strength in the days to come and we prayed for the day we would all see Emmy again.
I spent a lot of today remembering. Remembering the endless ups and downs of her time in the hospital. Remembering how she looked up at me from that hospital bed w/ those beautiful blue eyes. Remembering how we “broke out” of the hospital on Christmas Eve so we could be together as a family on Christmas Day. Remembering how 2 weeks later, we were back in the hospital very scared for our child who now weighed at 7 months what she weighed at 7 wks. Remembering how we thought all was well despite the lack of weight gain. Remembering all the things we “thought” we were going to be doing w/ our little girl. Remembering how she was the belle of the ball that night before she died.
I also remembered before she was sick. Our vacations this fall to South Dakota and Colorado. Remembering how I made a necklace in a bead shop in Creede w/ Emmy nursing the whole time. Remembering how I would blow on her tummy when I changed her diaper. Remembering how I would wake up every morning to Emmy…wide eyed and eager to nurse.
The memories are painful, but necessary. I continue to grieve in snipits. I will have moments where I ache beyond belief. And I never grieve quietly. There is a primal quality to the cries. They well up w/in me and come out in sobs and moans. But, then they are gone. It is almost as if there is an on/off switch to my grief. Sometimes I “tape” the switch down, pushing back all the things my heart wants to feel, but my mind won’t allow. Other times the switch is on and I mourn deeply. Then, the switch is off and life resumes…my life w/ my remaining 4 children and my husband. During those times I can remember Emmy and smile and laugh and love her completely w/o feeling sorry for myself as I stand here empty-handed, b/c although I may be empty-handed, I am not empty-hearted.
Ps 30:11a ~ “You have turned for me my mourning into dancing“
I may not be fully dancing yet, but I can hear the music.