On Sunday, Chris and I decided to go get a very small Christmas tree for Lucy. Earlier this month, I was convinced that I didn’t want to do anything to recognize the holidays in our home, that it would just be too difficult. It’d be another reminder of what we are missing… and don’t we have enough reminders already? I finally decided that I needed to do something for Lucy, even if that something were small. I am so glad that we did. Yesterday, I went on a scavenger hunt through Hobby Lobby to see if I could find some suitable decorations, and came out with a few perfect items that were meant just for her tree. A gorgeous butterfly topper. A couple of little dragonfly pendants that I turned into ornaments. Beautiful, delicate glass bulbs that reflect the light just so. More dainty, sparkling butterflies… a lovely ‘L’ ornament (the LAST one there!)… even a 2016 Baby’s First Christmas ornament. I will admit that I choked up much more than once while on my quest, especially with the 1st Christmas ornament, but it was somehow healing to do this for our baby girl. I couldn’t wait to get home and put everything on her tree. I can’t seem to look at it enough; it brings me serenity and a sense of peace to sit in the glow of the tree lights, knowing that it is all for Lucy. It’s beautiful and heart-wrenching all at once.

At times lately I feel more emotionally sound than I have in a very long while, yet more fragile than ever at the same time. Like at any moment, I could shatter into hundreds of tiny glass shards. So much within me has been broken, mended, and broken again. There’s a line from Pearl Jam’s song ‘Black’ that reminds me of this for some reason (I know, weird, but I always pay attention to song lyrics), and it goes, “…And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything”. Once there was a beautiful, glittering, fragile glass bulb of a dream carefully placed into my willing, grateful hands… I nurtured it and carefully ensured its safety and poured all of my love and joy into it. Then, for no reason at all, just as the dream was about to reach fruition, it was violently smashed and shattered, ‘and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything’. All I am left with is a handful of broken glass. One cannot just pick up all of the shards and pieces of such a combustion and put them all back into place again… It’s never going to be exactly as it once was. And anyone who thinks it can has never walked in the shoes of a loss parent. I know without a doubt that my grief will last for the rest of my life, in some way or another. I have accepted this part of my ‘fate’. I also accept that while my heart will never be fully mended, it will continue beating… I know this because it has made it this far in the ‘after’ of losing my precious baby. I know that as much as I may try to fight or deny it, the truth is that sometimes bitterness rears its ugly head and I feel envy toward those who have the privilege of parenting in ways that Chris and I never can. I have been changed in ways that even now I cannot fathom. However, I find comfort in reminiscing on the joy and love that my daughter has brought to my life since the moment of her existence. As impossible as it seems some days, I know that I will make it if I cling to the shards of the dream that is my Lucy that are not so fragile, I will make it. I will always fiercely love my baby, and because of that, I will always have comfort and light in my life.

I made an ornament for our sweet girl and hung it on her tree.

Lucy’s Christmas tree… a photo simply doesn’t do it justice.