I can’t believe it’s
almost been 2 years. Actually, 23 months
today, to be exact.
I wish I could say
that Caroline’s looming birthday wasn’t weighing heavy on my heart, but it
is. I’ve been finding myself crying more
than I had been, talking about her even more than normal, and missing her so
badly it keeps me up in the night. I
daydream about what she would be like, how tall she would be, if she’d like
broccoli, if she’d like music, if she’d like me.
This week, Addalee
took her first steps. It was so
sweet. Her little chubby feet, placed
clumsily one in front of the other, while we cheered for her. She only took a few steps because she had to
stop and cheer for herself! All the
while, I was crying like a baby. Bittersweet.
I wasn’t really a
weepy, highly emotional person until we lost Caroline. Now, I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m mad. And sometimes, I just cry. It’s not something that I love. But I do love that I feel things and
appreciate the life I have, and the life I get to have with my child(ren).
While I love
getting to see Addalee grow up, it always strikes me when she hits milestones
that I missed every.single.one. of them with her big sister. We missed everything from her first cry, to
those sweet first steps. And I still
think of all of those new experiences that we didn’t have, almost 2 years
later.
I met a woman when
Addalee and I were out shopping today.
She had to stop and tell me that Addalee was pretty (Thank you, we
certainly think she is!). Her
daughter-in-law is expecting their first grandbaby, she’s 14 weeks along and
they’re so excited. I know that story. I
lived that story, until it stopped. I
was pleasant; I talked about how exciting it is to find out the gender, I
shared about shopping for a much anticipated baby, and some of the baby items
that we appreciated. Somehow, she came
up. Somehow, and I don’t even remember
how, I told her of my Caroline. Her face
dropped and she took a step back from me.
With a horrified face, she told me how sorry she was, and then said, “What
did you do? I mean, did you have a
funeral? For your baby, how…I mean, how
do you do that?” Honestly, I’ve gotten
fairly comfortable talking about Caroline and our experiences surrounding my
pregnancy with her, delivery, funeral, etc.
But I was honestly a little surprised that this is where our
conversation had taken this turn. I
really thought I’d heard about all there was to hear from people who are
blindsided by my sad story. Guess not. Maybe we’ll just stay in tomorrow!
