The Garden

It's 10 pm on October 16.  I've imagined today a hundred times over the last few months.  Today, I wake up early, too excited to sleep.  We get dressed, pack the car, try to fake interest in E's cartoons and nervously watch the clock tick.  We pile in the car and giggle about TWO car seats in the back while we drive E to the sitter.  Then it's to the hospital, more nervous jitters, scary tubes and needles, a funny scrub outfit for the Hubs and finally...Amelia.  I can close my eyes and see it all.  I can almost feel it, almost remember it as if it happened that way simply because I dreamed it so many times.

But it didn't.  None of that happened today.  Today I woke up before the sun... I lingered in those few brief seconds of bliss that anyone who's grieved knows too well -- those seconds before the weight of reality hits you.  I layed there, eyes closed hoping it wasn't true, hoping I would feel the weight my pregnant belly against the mattress, praying it was tomorrow or a year from now or three weeks ago... PLEASE GOD LET IT BE 3 WEEKS AGO! There was a tiny voice though, one tiny little, "Mama?" that's kept me going for 3 weeks.  I thank God for E, for that tiny little voice.  With that one little, "mama" I found the strength to open my eyes.  I squeezed her, grateful she still begs to crawl in my bed and as we began to plan the day I reminded myself that the sun will set today.  It won't be October 16 forever.

I want to tell Amelia's story.  It's short.  But I can't tell it all in one setting.  I learned that yesterday.  Yesterday I told it twice and that sent me under the covers.  I'm learning this grief dance.  So many parts are familiar from my dad's death 8 years ago, but I'm determined to do this differently.  I'm leaving my heart open - honestly trying to heal, to learn, to grow.  I'm trying hard to trust, to believe, to have faith.  This time I'm trying.

So today I can't tell you her whole story, but I can tell you about the "garden".   We drove there for the first time 2 weeks ago.  We wanted to show my mom and E the spot we had picked for Amelia.  We circled the entire cemetery and E, with all the wisdom of a 2 year old, exclaimed as she noticed row after row of cheap fake flowers, "Look Mama, we're in a garden!"  As we pulled the car to a stop in front of Amelia's spot, my heart felt peace.  My precious little one will be sleeping in the garden.