I've been suffering bad this week. Well basically, ever since last week when my daughter's due date approached. I've been turning every song on the radio into something about her. In my head, everything is about her.
Right now I should not be typing this. In fact, I wouldn't even have this blog if it hadn't been for my daughter dying. I'd be on maternity leave, swinging my little girl, and enjoying the sun, the sounds of the birds, the attention she would have gotten for being so new, so little, so precious. Instead, I sit here at work, typing this less than thrilling blog about my hurt. And somedays it feels like I am the only one hurting.
I miss the making bottles, cuddling, changing diapers, wiping up slobber, rocking to sleep, the first doctors visit where they tell me how big she would be. When I saw her on the screen during the ultrasound, she was so beautiful. Her heart was just pumping away. She would kick me continuously. Nearly 5 months ago, for me, the things I thought I would get to have all over again, led me to devastation. I've never been this devastated. This takes the cake.
Last Friday, Brandon and I went out to the cemetery and visited her. The mower had demolished her stars that were in the ground. I'm sure he went on his merry way after destroying the stars I looked for tirelessly. I cannot stand the thought of a lawn mower just mowing on top of her grave. I know it has to be done, I just don't want it to be my little girl resting a few feet below that racket. I hate her being there. I like the idea of decorating for her, visiting her, but I don't like those factors of just being another mowed over grave.
Right now I'd be looking at her, exhausted, and she would be looking at me, trying to figure me out. She'd know I was her mommy, but she would be learning all of my features. How I sound from the outside of the womb. We'd be connecting through touch, not just through spirit.
I'm attaching a few pictures from our visit. We went in the evening, so it was beginning to get dark.
Next door to my office there is a Kroger. I frequent that place almost as much as I frequent the bathroom. The lady in the floral department knows what happened to Claire. She asks about her all the time and always lets me order what I want to take to her. I had her special order the Miss You balloons.
She is an outstanding lady.
If I could have one wish. It would be to have my Claire Bear here with me.
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