Tuesday, March 08, 2011
It snowed like crazy last night. So naturally I decided to do spring cleaning/organizing today. I went through all the girls clothes and bagged up all the tiny baby girl things I'm not going to need again. There were a few special things I kept, mostly because I'm not ready to get rid of them. The blue and white summer dress that Charlotte wore. The outfit I dressed Lily in the morning she died--pink and green and white. The lamby sweater. The white and yellow gown.
Maybe I'm saving them for my sister's babies, maybe they will remain in the drawer until I pull them out and dress my grandbaby in them while her mom is out. Maybe in a couple years, during another spring cleaning, I will stuff them in the bag along with the too small 2T stuff that today is so fresh and cute and crisp. Hard to say.
It's been a month since Lily died. I hate waking up Sunday morning and immediately counting the weeks. I continue to have a hard time with the fact there are so few good happy memories. However I was reminded in a letter recently that Lily spent 40 weeks inside me that were warm and cozy and quiet, and only 14 or so out in the cold rough world. Four in the NICU with her mother hovering over her most days and the nurse the other. Ten at home sleeping and stretching and taking coconut baths. One week in the PICU. One day in a white dress in the temple. Four nights in bed in between her parents,sedated and bundled.
It wasn't that bad. It just wasn't particularly good.
If she had been born still I would've been devastated. If she had in the delivery room I would've regretted never feeding her. If she had never come home from the NICU we would've said "If only she could have come home, if only she could have spent time with her sisters, if only we could have had her with us." If she had died before the terrible seizures began, we would have wondered if heart surgery was all she needed to go on. And if she had died in the hospital, we wouldn't have had that last quiet night snuggled next to her, and held her in our little family in the light of my bedroom window as she died.
So it was okay. As time goes on I can see the wisdom, I can see the pattern, I can almost, almost see the plan.
Some day it will be better than okay. I can hold on to that.