three 2 1/2 year olds make for quite interesting days. their personalities are very different, and so are the ways in which they try my patience. (i feel funny talking about how annoying children are on a blog dedicated to a dead daughter, but this is what i'm living today and i'm going with it.) many days i've thought, "what the hell would i do with an infant right now?? these kids are going to kill me."
but evening comes and then i'm alone, and i shouldn't be. i think about holding her and snuggling and smelling and touching and feeding. i sometimes cry. i always feel that emptiness, and the quiet i was wanting all day stabs my heart.
for the rest of my life, her absence will hurt. the great gift she has given me, though, is that i've been inspired to do things, to be things, at a level i've never known before. i will always be trying to find a way to give her memory meaning, and i think the most important avenue for that is to be what i would wish for any of my children. i will give her life through my own. even as broken as i am, i haven't taken care of myself as well as i do now in years? ever?
i have three children that bring me to the brink of sanity almost daily. i have one child that inspires me to be a better person almost daily. which is not to say that the three don't inspire and the one hasn't ruined me; they do and she has.
but what makes me cry most often is seeing my other children crying. it makes me think about p@ige and how she'll never cry. she'll never frustrate me and make me want to bang my head on the wall. i will never know her personality. my evenings are filled with longing even though i know they would otherwise be filled with alot more frustration.
will my other children ever be jealous of their perfect sister? my feelings for p@ige will never endure the trials that a living child would put them through. i will never think, "i love her but i just don't like her right now!"
only after writing all this down do i realize this is only a new way to feel guilty.
and miss my baby.
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3 comments:
All roads lead to Rome. By which I mean, that every train of thought seems to end up in the same, sad place.
Yep- it doesn't matter how many different ways we try and look at things- our arms are still empty and there is no why. it just sucks.
I keep thinking about this. I think about the fact that Jacob will always be perfect to me, he's never as you say cried, or annoyed me or been trying my patience for days on end.
I wonder if any subsequent children can ever live up to the perfection of Jacob. Which is completely screwed in the head because he died?!?
Maybe this is just another form of grief. I really don't know anymore.
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