Day 10: Together Again

I found this quote on Pinterest recently and I've fallen in love with it. Nothing delights my heart more than the thought of being with Avery and sharing my life with her. To think that she is aware of me and loves me as deeply as I love her brings me joy.

I am comforted by picturing her in Heaven, as a beautiful little girl, running and laughing through that field of wildflowers, like the kind that grow here along the roads as Spring rolls in, during golden hour when the sun is low and everything is bathed in a glorious light. In this daydream, she knows me. She remembers that she's mine. She's just my curious, excited daughter, running ahead to explore, trying to catch a butterfly that's almost as pretty as she is.

One day, my time will come and I will leave this world. I'll find myself at the edge of that field of flowers and my eyes will find my Avery, smiling and laughing. I will know her immediately because she is mine. Immediately my heart will be whole. She will turn around and her face will light up, brighter than Heaven's sky, when her eyes meet her mama's. She'll run toward me, her curls glowing. Then finally, I will take her in my arms once again, tears of awaited joy streaming down my face. Her embrace will erase all the earthly pain I have endured without her. It'll be just a foggy distant remnant of my brief life on Earth. Avery and I will walk off, hand in hand, to sing with the angels and bask in the company of Jesus.

This will be our eternity, together forever, a Heavenly family, slowly joined by all those we love, and finding those we've lost before. This endless time of perfect beauty will one day be reality. Avery is already a part of it, taking it all in. She's just waiting for me across the field.

Merry Christmas, Darling

We've been spending a great deal of time lately 'decking the halls' and shopping for gifts. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year but for the last two years, it's been both happy and sad. Both joyous and lacking. I savor all of the warmth the season brings into our home and the excitement that hangs in the air, but another emotion lingers over us always during these festive days.

Avery isn't here.

Her stocking hangs between mine and her brother's. She has several ornaments gracing our tree. But she will never share in this special holiday with us. The closest thing to having her here was when I was pregnant with her for Christmas of 2009. I kept saying excitedly how it was our last Christmas without our baby when actually, it was our only Christmas with her.

As I watch Jude marvel over these new and amazing sights, I wonder how Avery would love it all. What would be her favorite parts of our traditions? What would be on her Christmas wish list? Surely, she would have helped us decorate the tree last night. Even if she dropped and broke a few ornaments, I'd be glad to let her help. To see the twinkling lights illuminate her little face. To watch her smile in awe as she watched the tree come to life with color and beauty. I know she would've enjoyed it. The Christmas cookies we'd bake. The Christmas movies we'd watch. The Christmas dresses she'd wear. I'm sure she would have looked beautiful on our Christmas card, nestled right in between us, next to her brother. And she'd probably help Daddy plug in the Christmas lights outside each evening and light up as the lights did.

Christmas, although beautiful and magical, will always be missing something. I'll always wonder about that empty space in our family and my imagination will always fill it as I drift off into the 'if only's. I especially wish that Jude could share the excitement of Christmas with his sister, just the way I always did with my brothers. It makes me sad for him, though he'll never know differently and won't realize what he's missing. But I will. It'll always be there in the back of my mind. His singularity, his technical only child-ness.

I try not to focus on the negative aspects. I want to enjoy our blessings more than grieve our losses. It's not as raw as it used to be. The first Christmas without Avery was agonizing. It was ugly and anything but joyful. The season's beauty practically mocked our pain. I'm so grateful that our hearts have come a long way since then, but our love has not faded. The way we miss our little girl has not changed. We'll always wish she was here. I guess in a way she is, living on in the spirit of her little brother, who is here because of her.

I often think about where Avery is spending Christmas instead. And I think about what Christmas is all about in the first place... Celebrating the birth of Christ. Avery gets to celebrate the birth of Jesus with Him. She is there with Jesus Himself, among the songs of the angels, sharing in His birthday celebration. What an amazing joyous sight that must be.

Merry Christmas darling, we're apart that's true
But I can dream and in my dreams, I'm Christmas-ing with you...

Capture Your Grief : Day 16 // Release

Today's topic is release, relating to balloon, butterfly, or lantern releases in memory of our babies. Yesterday, I considered going out and purchasing a few balloons to release for Avery, so I would have a relevant photo and story for today's post. But when I woke up this morning, my throat so raw I could barely speak, my day was instead spent on the couch, all thoughts of balloon purchases gone out the window.

However, we have released balloons for Avery before. This kind of steals from tomorrow's post, but it's okay. It's odd how emotional it is to release balloons into the sky in someone's memory. I don't think I ever gave it much thought until I did it on her first birthday last year. There's more significance and meaning attached than one could realize. An emotional release more than just a physical one.

I remember last March, in the cemetery, 11 weeks pregnant with Jude, holding tightly the clusters of balloons in my hand. I was so reluctant to let go. I'm not even sure what the correlation of that emotion is. And when I finally did, I choked back tears. A few tears escaped as we all watched the seven balloons -- one for each hour we spent with Avery -- drift off toward Heaven. Maybe it's the act itself in place of a real birthday that evokes such a stir. Maybe it's the fabricated notion that the balloons will reach her at her Heavenly party so she would know we were remembering her special day.

Capture Your Grief : Day 4 // Treasured item

When you lose a baby, every single thing they leave behind is treasured. No matter how seemingly insignificant, it's all we have left of them. For me, it was a little difficult to choose just one treasured item I have of Avery. I cherish the photos we took of her. I love the small crocheted blanket that was given to us by one of the nurses at the hospital. I love the little pink hat she wore as we held her. But I decided that my most treasured item is her hand and foot prints. They're somehow just different than photos. They're a mark she actually left behind. Unique prints that belonged exclusively to her. It doesn't matter that she was so small. She was a real person, regardless of how short her time here was.

I miss her little hands and her little feet. I can still remember how her hand felt between my thumb and forefinger, the feeling of her little knuckles. The softness of the pads of her feet. I know they look much different now, on her glorified, perfect body in Heaven. Those little hands play and they collect the most amazing, unimaginably beautiful flowers. And those little feet skip down streets of gold, they run without growing tired, and they dance before the Lord.

That's my girl.