Another ‘first’. Another 1st day of the month.
May 1, 2018 means you have been in heaven for 9 months.
273 days of tears.
9 months is also how long I carried you inside of me. Daddy and I prepared and waited for you to be born. We would relate the ultrasound story to you often. I felt for sure you were a boy. When the technician told Daddy and I you were a girl, I asked if they were sure and to look again. The tech said she was quite sure. And so we knew that we would eventually be converting the downstairs den into a bedroom for you someday. While you were small though, you could share a room with Thomas.
But the day came for you to get a new bedroom of your own. I remember clearly Daddy painting your room: white walls with pink trim. I remember picking the curtains and the curtain rods, they were silver with pink and blue jewels on the decorative scrolls on each end. Your bedroom set was my grandmother’s. A treasured set of furniture that I got when she passed away. Soon the room became you and everything your personality (and some of Mommy’s) embodied. (We always remarked how you liked what I liked. We never had fights over decorations or clothes. We agreed. We even shared some clothes and shoes in the last couple of months.) So it was, pink and girly, hair bows, and stuffed animals. It looked quite similar to that throughout the years. And actually still today. I could never bring myself to take down your hair bows hung so cute as a wall decoration. No. Because that meant you were growing up and wouldn’t be wearing them anymore. Too much for a mama’s heart to take. Her little girl growing up. You obliged and let me leave them hanging. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for you to grow up. Now I put one of your pink monogrammed hair bows on my purse. Because ribbons and bows are a constant remembrance of you, sweet girl. Fifteen Forever.
Your bedroom is just as you left it before you walked out the door around 3:00pm on August 1, 2017. A bedroom now devoid of life and it’s inhabitant. There is no sound coming from the room anymore. It’s eerily quiet. The kitties won’t even go in unless Dad or I enter. It’s still hard for me to go in. Someday soon I hope. I want to feel you back in that room. The room where I fixed your hair countless times. From pigtails at Johnson to buns for Nutcracker. In the still, I want to hear your voice singing in that room as you always did.
9 months feels like forever, and at the same time feels like just yesterday.
^Your hospital photo, inside a frame someone gave to us as a gift when you were born. See the quote? Psalm 17:8 “Hide me under the shadow of Your wings.” The sentence before this in the Bible is “Keep me as the apple of your eye”. Of 2 things I’m certain.
1. You are safe under the angels’ wings and under the arms of Jesus and Mary.
2. Yes, most definitely you are kept as the apple of Dad’s and my eyes.
Sweet, sweet girl, I miss you and I love you. Forever.