Holding.

Easter Sunday 2010 April 4th was the day that Maelee died in my womb. We didn't know that until the next day but this day still means something to me.

It happened, right? She existed, right? Sometimes it just feels like our new normal is "oh yeah and I had a stillbirth and then a year or so later I had her brother and that's our story" and I almost forget... no that's not the right word, I live on and survive and sometimes that means I don't go into the details, I don't go there in my heart. But her birthday week is when I am even more near and dear to the memory of the baby, the actual 6 pounds 8 ounces of baby that I delivered, that I never got to hear cry or see her take that first breath. You just don't go through eight-plus months of expecting a live person and just forget it ever happened. I can give you a hundred links of baby loss blogs out there to prove that.

So I'm being intentional in spending time reflecting on all that means, all her life and her death and what losing her has done to me, how the Lord has used this to change me. I'll be writing more on that later but one of the first things Greg wrote after Maelee died when he was processing grief was a hope that others would be holding their kids closer each night, not taking their live children for granted.

Today I held my boy while he slept and just stared at him. He was up too early today, naps were off and instead of his typical long afternoon nap, he just had some in spurts (Grammy and Gramps are here and he's just too excited I guess). So his last nap? I just held him. I don't do that often but today, today I needed to just stare down at his sweet eyelashes and his button nose and see the breath coming in and out of him. I needed to feel him next to me, to relish in the fact that he is alive.

He does not replace or nullify Maelee. He doesn't change the fact she happened. But oh how he has filled the empty arms. You don't get over holding your dead child in your arms. Nope, pretty sure that's going to stick with you. The arms still ache for her presence but they are so grateful for the darling rainbow boy to occupy them. So for those that it applies to: don't forget, please don't forget, the lesson of holding your kids closer each night.

-Heather