Today, our Lucy girl would have been four months old. I am sure I’d have already propped her up sweetly in our cushy arm chair and have taken her four month old photo, with a cute ‘4 Months’ sticker on a cuddly onesie, her bright eyes shining and maybe a toothless grin on her round little face. I’d ooh and ahh at her and marvel at how much she’d be growing and what new things she’d be able to do. I’m sure part of the day would consist of me or her Daddy bouncing her in our arms near the window, letting her lovely blue eyes (the nurses said they were blue, which we had guessed already due to her Mommy and Daddy’s baby blues) gaze upon the winter wonderland that is now our yard. I know we’d giggle with glee as we’d keep doing all sorts of silly things to produce a baby laugh, and we’d bask in the sweet silliness of it all, loving each moment of being parents to such a precious baby girl.

That is what is occurring today in the parallel universe that exists in my heart and mind.

Back to Reality: I am pining away with a tortured heart, trying to imagine a life of joy with our deceased baby girl with a lump in my throat, tears brimming, a hollowness in my chest… all the while knowing that no matter how much I dream it or wish it, it will never be. It happened, and no matter what we do, it cannot be undone. I ask myself often, how is my heart still beating? How am I still breathing? My baby is gone, and with her, all of the beautiful hopes and dreams I had for her, for us. We are missing everything.

Last night, Chris and I were at a gathering of friends. We chatted, laughed, ate, drank, and visited. It was almost, almost as if things were as they’d always been. Except that it wasn’t. My new normal in those situations is that I try to push the thoughts and feelings of grieving for Lucy to the side, just to avoid them bubbling to the surface, to avoid adding discomfort for others in whatever scenario I’m in. But, the thoughts continue to grow louder and louder, clamoring around in my head, increasing in volume and intensity, demanding to be heard, to be tended to. There was Christmas music on the radio in the background, and as much as I tried to ignore it, pretend I didn’t hear it, I simply couldn’t. My ear kept tuning into certain songs, making my heart beat faster and hot tears try to work their way out of my eyes. All I could think about was that we don’t have our Lucy. I couldn’t help but feel a stinging jealousy deep down as I sat among our friends with their beautiful families, gearing up for another loving, joy-filled holiday… knowing all the while that as Christmas creeps closer, I will continue to withdraw further into myself and wish the harshness of it all away. If I am completely honest, part of me is jealous of their joy, their innocence. I hate these feelings and thoughts, but as much as I try to eliminate them, they remain in the back of my brain. I want to opt out of the horror that is Christmas altogether. Well, I guess if I’m wanting things, I just want my baby daughter back. I want our happy life back.

I imagine that some day, Chris and I will have consistent happiness back in our lives. The pangs of missing Lucy will also continue to be a consistent piece of our lives. I am trying as hard as I can to be gentle with myself, to remember that Lucy’s brief life was a beautiful piece of my own life and that I’m lucky to have been chosen as her mother. I am letting her light guide me daily, and I will keep doing the best I can to share that light with the world around me. I will keep doing all of that, but deep in my heart, I will always just wish that we’d gotten to keep our sweet Lucy Rose.

Happy four months, my precious girl. You remain always in my heart, and you are still the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to me. Mommy loves you so, so much…..

Winter can no longer be denied… I wish Lucy were here to see the beauty with me.