If only Lucy were here. If only everything could have gone as ‘planned’. If only my baby girl were growing and thriving. If only she had a chance to live. If only I had a chance to actively be her Mommy. If only Chris had a chance to actively be her Daddy. If only Lucy had the opportunity to become who she might have been. If only my heart could be whole again. If only there were a way to turn back time and fix this. If only if only if only.

My head is constantly full of the ‘if onlys’. It’s hard. Every day it’s tough. Somehow, after nearly three months though, I guess I’ve figured out how to begin living and grieving Lucy at the same time. I was picking up sticks outside in our yard today, admiring the interestingly warm Fall weather, and the thought hit me again, “I’m doing ordinary things, continuing to live, and my baby died. How am I doing ANY of this?” It has occurred to me that there were only two choices when Lucy died… 1) I die too, or 2) I keep on living. That’s it. Morbid, yes I know, but it’s really what it boils down to. Once I made the clear choice to keep on living, then I had another choice to make: 1)Continue on the road to despair, or 2) Pursue the path of hope. I have chosen choice #2 there. Because Chris and I are two people who’ve always figured out how to make the very best of what we have to work with, there it is… we must find a way to make the best out of what our lives now consist of. Unfortunately, it consists of having no Lucy to hug, love, and parent. We have been devastated by this, but we have no choice but to make the best of it, because that’s what we do. I am not intending to simplify our grief here, because it is absolutely a deep, never-ending process with unpredictable twists and turns, it’s just that I keep realizing how time continues to pass whether we’re ready for it to or not, and it’s amazing how life just keeps going. It still seems as though the world should have stopped spinning when Lucy took her last breath. I guess it did for us, but even we are unable to stop time for much more than a moment. If only things were different.

Yesterday was a healing day. I met with my aunt Rosie, and my mom joined us as well. I don’t think my aunt realizes what an important role her rock collecting has played for me (and my mom too really, with her Petosky stones) with her heart-shaped rocks. I think we had a little visit from my precious girl while we were all out looking for special stones on the beach. I know my mom snapped photos, but being there in the moment was really impactful. Call me crazy, but there was this piece of plastic that was on the beach, in one of these tractor tires out there (sounds weird and ugly, but really it isn’t), on it were different lines, and I noticed it when I walked by it. About five minutes later, I passed by the same spot again, and there was the shape of an “L” imprinted in the sand, presumably from the plastic object that had moved. It made sense at the time, and felt like another little note from Lucy, trying to leave an imprint of her L name behind. To solidify that, there was a little heart-shaped disruption in the sand just outside of that tire. It was cool for the three of us to see those little signs, and we all felt that it was my sweet baby girl, saying hello. If only instead of searching for these signs, Lucy were here in my arms instead. If only, if only, my sweet baby. Oh, if only.

So here’s some of the other bizarre/ not-so-bizarre things I’ve been thinking. Although Lucy’s life was short, I am certain that it has made an impact. I found myself thinking of the butterfly effect earlier… this idea of how Lucy’s life and death has impacted everything that Chris and I have done since. And our actions in turn impact the world around us. I think about the idea of me returning to work a marking period early, or the idea that everything we are doing right now is different than what we might be doing otherwise… every step we take from here on out is different than it would have been if Lucy had survived. Different people may be affected or impacted by our actions due to the timing or deviated path we are now on. I can only hope that these different actions end up having a positive impact upon the world around us. I’d like to think that me returning to work early might have a positive impact on some of my students. Maybe the potentially positive things that result from that could end up being little gifts from Lucy. My positive actions in turn could be Lucy’s positive impact. I don’t know, maybe I sound crazy; I just wish I could make sense of all of this. I have moments still when I’m so fucking mad that this has happened to our little girl, to us… I know there is nothing we can do to change it, but it still stings and hurts so much sometimes. It suddenly hits me out of nowhere (Chris too), and I realize there’s not a damn thing we can do to change what happened, and I get mad all over again. If only we could change it, but we can’t. Again, I guiltily and reluctantly resign myself to the fact that all we can do is move forward and try to create something good out of what remains. We are doing our best, because it’s all we know how to do. If only we were making the best out of our situation with our lovely daughter… but we can’t. I hate this. We’ll keep going though, because it’s what we do. *Sigh* I miss my baby.