Last week, I wrote about my dread of my angel's upcoming birthday. Last year, it wasn't bad. I stayed so busy that the birthday party at the end almost came as a celebratory moment. I cried as we went through her baby book. But otherwise, it was a light time. I hoped that would bode well for future birthdays.
I don't know what it was about her seventh birthday, but it hit me hard. I started out okay. But most of that work I dreaded that day canceled out. I had a lot of time to think. And as I've discovered, thinking, especially on a day like that, can be hard. The more I thought about what day it was, the harder the day weighed on me. I met my husband for lunch and to spend time at an LDS temple, our traditional gift to her. And he could tell from the moment I showed up that I was a fragile mess. Anything and everything set me off. It didn't even take a trigger; the world was a trigger that day. Existing was a trigger. We had a lovely, peaceful time together, but that didn't mean I felt the peace inside. Most days, I drift through not thinking. All I could do that day was think.
The kids got home from school, and nobody seemed much affected by the day. They had their homework and chores to do, even though all I wanted to do was just spend time with them, to celebrate the children I still can hold. Meanwhile, I carried the weight of the day alone as I waited for my husband to get home from work. I just wanted it over. When all chores were done, we invited the cousins over to celebrate Alli's birthday party. We each wrote a little note to Alli and my miscarried angels [since the others don't really have a birthdate], telling them how much we loved and missed them. I started to cry from the beginning. But when I showed the video/slideshow my friend made for me for her funeral, one that played her song, "A Breath Away" by Josh Groban, I sobbed harder than I had in a very long time. My girl, who usually holds everything inside in spite of her bond with her baby sister, sobbed with me and held me. I don't remember having such a good cry together like that. A healing cry.
We still wanted a priesthood blessing from my husband, basically the opportunity to hear the Father's voice speaking words of comfort. And the words did offer the peace I hadn't had all day. He spoke of how special it was to hold this angel in our arms for a brief time, along with the reminder that we would get to hold her again. I know we will be a family forever. It does bring me peace. But I think we all need time to cry, especially time to cry together. As I gain some distance from that day, I may say it was a good day. It was an important day, anyway. One that needed to happen. I'm grateful it only comes once a year.
