Gifts from an Angel

For Christmas, we gave my niece one of the blankets we didn't need anymore.  It wasn't until I saw my niece held it in front of me that I realized its significance: that blanket was given to my angel Alli when she was born.  I don't know why I didn't make that connection before.  And this niece would have been about six months younger than Alli had my sweet little one lived.  They would have been each other's best friend.  Rather than just holding this blanket, they would have had each other to hold.  Maybe Alli was behind the gift because, as I said, I didn't make that connection.  With my sweet angel's penchant for giving gifts from beyond the veil--kittens and a puppy for my little girl, mostly--it wouldn't surprise me to know this gift of a fuzzy, pink blanket was a token of Alli's love for her cousin.  While Alli can't be here to give gifts, she wants those who are here to feel her love.

As I think about it, I become convinced that it was, indeed, a gift from my angel to her precious little cousin just as Ruru the kitten was a hug from heaven to my little girl.  Since Alli was only 4 months old when she left us, I never really got to know her beyond her babyish needs.  But the thoughtfulness of the perfect kittens for her sister--one sent right around my little girl's birthday and one sent six months later to be her perfect soul-mate--as well as the ideal puppy when my girl wanted one, and now this gift of a blanket, I have come to know that she shows love through giving gifts.  It makes me wonder what my angel has given me that I haven't noticed.  I know she's sent me messages when I've most needed them.  I'll have to watch for and ponder the gifts my angel wants me to understand came from her.

Pandora's Box

I passed through nausea I thought may be pregnancy.  It wasn't, but it filled me with such a mix of emotions, that I'm scared of going anywhere near that pandora's box again.  I had a whiff of hope but mostly fear, depression, and a certainty of more loss.  I was so overcome, I cried.  I've lost track of the exact number of miscarriages I've had in a row.  I want to say it was either fifteen or sixteen, in addition to the loss of my four-month-old. I just can't take another one.  We're actively trying not to get pregnant but haven't decided on anything more committal than that.  One day soon, we need to figure something out.  But in the meantime, I feel like I'm walking on thin ice every month, scared of that pandora's box bursting open again.

And just when I think I'm well on my way to emotional healing, to finding more joy than fear, something like this happens.  Though it was a non-event, it was a reminder of what could be at any time.  With the last miscarriage, I had to come to terms with the knowledge that my body just will not, cannot give me another live baby.  Mostly, I've found peace with this.  But there are moments the pain brushes the surface, lurks underneath.  I know I will hold my babies again.  I look forward to the resurrection and to a glorious reunion.  But in the meantime, I fear more loss.