Sunday, September 27, 2009
Today is our 7 year anniversary and the space bar is notworking well on our laptop. This will be brief.
We have never been big anniversary celebrators...one year we went to Lake Tahoe which was wonderful, and 9 months later we had a baby. Dear Little Charlotte.
Yesterday we had lunch at Rodizio grill and went to the football game. We bought a slice of cake and ate it out of it's plastic box in front of the tv once we got home. It was so romantic.
Seriously though, I love my husband. I think back to our wedding day and it seems like just yesterday, and the three years that went by before Charlotte was born is a blur. What did we do all the time? For years!? Here is what I remember: I had short hair, I was terrified of cooking, and I became a nurse. And we went to Tahoe one fall.
We have been through so much. In our tiny little seven year stretch, we have had two children, and did our best to raise the first to her fullest potential. We collapsed in the hallway and cried together after leaving the doctors office the day of her diagnosis. We were surrounded by angels and light the day she was born. We shivered through a night on the PICU waiting room floor without even a blanket while they worked on her. We have sat in waiting room after waiting room...waiting for news, holding hands, shaking.
And then Ella came with the sweet reassurrance that she was fine, even before we knew she was fine.
And shortly thereafter, the sense that Charlotte was almost finished here.
And then the morning we held eachother in another waiting room, and decided to call our families to come say goodbye to our first born.
Again there were angels that day, and light, and now the slow dimming as we get further and further away from Charlotte's life, that brief brilliant miracle. As our lives fade into normalcy.
Which, is, slower. But delightful, to watch Ella babble and crawl, pull to stand and throw an absolute fit when the drum sticks are taken away. The walks in the beautiful old cemetery, the smiling over Charlotte memories; it really isn't so bad. Most days.
And where will we be in seven more years?
Will we have more children, or a solitary 8 year old daughter? Will we still be in this home, and if not, how can we leave behind Charlotte's pink room?
Will I have short hair again?
It's exhausting to think on it.
So, today, we will walk in the cemetery with our nearly 1 year old, and only think back, on what was and is, and leave the rest for another September day.