Sunday, September 20, 2009
It's been a thoughtful weekend.
On Saturday at 7 am I was leaning against my bed in my scrubs, all ready to go downstairs and leave for work. It was quiet and beautiful, still peaceful and dawnish out, and I was reminded of the morning I woke up early and went out to stand in the front room and look out at the dawn before work, and had the sense that this day was an end and a beginning for me. Hours later the phone call came that told us the baby inside of me would never be normal.
I had my cell phone in my pocket on Saturday, and I pulled it out to check my emails. And I found out that Eva had passed away that morning at home with her mom and dad. Eva was 3 months old and the daughter of a woman who contacted me just days after Charlotte died to say she was in the same situation I had been in, pregnant with a baby diagnosed with an unbalanced translocation unexpected to survive her birth day. Eva did survive and taught her parents and big sister so much. She was so loved.
I know what they are going through, I know what it is like to leave your baby girl in a funeral home and feel like you should stay to take care of her. I know the feeling of wandering the house before bedtime missing your chores, not sure what to do with yourself. I know what it is to comfort yourself by picturing your daughter dancing in heaven with those who have gone before. So I've been thinking of those first days and those last days with Charlotte this weekend, and I've been a little quiet, a little weary and sad.
Tomorrow it will have been seven months, and despite this weekend, this month has been easier than the last. Ella has kept me busy, learning to climb stairs and forever crawling frantically towards open doors and other sources of danger. She also discovered Charlotte's bedroom this week, crawling in from her room and pausing to play with Charlotte's abacus, one of her favorite toys put away after the funeral. She stood at Charlotte's bed and reached for the white winged teddy bear there.
I stepped into the other room and heard Ella squeal, and looked in to see she had managed to turn on Charlotte's princess nightlight by herself, which made her laugh, and nearly made me cry.
They are more rare, but the little Charlotte moments still come.