Monday, April 29, 2013

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Evie Girl



My Evie!

Now that you're a big one year old, you have opinions now.  Trouble is, I don't always know what it is you want. But you sure do! Except you can't talk much yet, so you point and yell.  Our weekends are spent with you, pointing and yelling. And with me, offering things. "This? This cup? No. Ok. This? You want the spatula? Nope. This? This? This? This?" It goes on and on. Which makes the days a bit long sometimes. And then, it's bedtime for you, I rock you, lay your sleepy head down to sleep, come out into the living room, sit down, look around, and suddenly I miss you.  I want to run back in and get you so we can play some more. Oh how I love you Evie girl.

Monday, April 15, 2013

I Carry Your Heart

Thinking about my Celeste tonight, and missing her.


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)









Saturday, April 13, 2013

How it's been lately

It's been two months today since Celeste went to Heaven.

When you become a new mother, so much joy is found in others admiring your baby, asking about her, sharing her unique birth story.  In so many ways, I feel like a new mother.  My body definitely gives it away.  And yet, I don't have a new baby to show off. Evangeline is enough, of course. She's more than enough hugs, kisses, tickles, giggles.  But I wish she had her sister.  I do.  I wish for all three of us that we had Celeste.  I think each day about the day I met her.  What it felt like to hold her, how small she felt against my chest. Her long fingers resting there. Her delicate skin. But especially, I think about it every 12th of the month.

Equally often, I think about feeling her kicks in my belly. I remember the excitement and joy each one brought, reassurance that there was a strong healthy baby in there.  I will never forget the first time I felt Celeste kick.  I was chugging a huge glass of ice water, standing in the cafeteria of the school. Every time I walk through that room alone, I think about that first special kick.  It was so strong, it caught me by surprise. At the time, I thought she would be a boy, because her kicks were so forceful compared to Evie's! I think I like remembering so vividly those punches and rolls because, as any mother knows, those kicks from your unborn baby feel so intimate, like you have shared something, just the two of you. Something no one can see on the outside, a little moment, just the two of you.  An indescribable feeling to anyone who hasn't experienced it.  It is one of the "snapshots" of my life that I treasure most.  Something I would be happy to relive in Heaven.  I guess I love reliving those sweet kicks from Celeste in my mind because it is the only memories I have of her existence, before I knew my sweet girl was going to Heaven too soon.  I treasure remembering our few moments together, just her and I, when everything made better sense.

In recent weeks, it has been difficult for me to reconcile what I feel on the inside with what I portray each day. Sometimes I feel as if Celeste has been forgotten by everyone but me.  Lately, it is something as simple as the checker at Trader Joe's smiling at Evie and asking if she's my only child. In those moments, something inside me unravels.  I feel the need to explain, that, actually, I have two children, but one is in Heaven.    I want to bring meaning to her life, short as it was. I guess for me it is hard at times to feel life returning to normal, because, on the inside, I am not the same person I was before Celeste was born. And I know I will never be that person again.  Some of my innocence was lost when I lost her and I'm different now. 

She was real, and her life mattered.  It changed me and our whole family forever. We miss you, Celeste! Your mama misses you every second of every day. Pray for me, sweet girl.