Stinging.

It still stings. Deep down. Not like a bee-like sting. More like that chronic neck ache that you just get used to living with.

Today I looked up from my desk at work to see a little red-headed girl from behind, walking to the door as she talked to her mom. I subconsciously calculated that she's a bit taller than Eli but still not kindergarten age which made me think she's got to be around four. And I felt the sting, the knowledge of who is absent in my life.

I think about Maelee less than I did before. I know there are a variety of reasons for that. We are away from South Carolina where our lives were when we were anticipating her. Our home with her room, with the memories of wailing in its emptiness, that home is now somebody else's home. Our boy who was his big sister's little brother has become the big brother. And we have a daughter to put on those pink onesies and smile for the camera. And we are busy and tired and still not settled.

Add the fact that time does ease (not heal) wounds and all this makes sense. Though I caught myself feeling guilty, like I wasn't missing her enough or replacing her with Annalee. But that's not true. I still miss her piece in the puzzle of our family. I still ache but the ache is more fleeting, more easily subsided. That's a gift - no way could I grieve so heavily and still function on earth. But it's also sad in its own right... the nearness to suffering, to the truth that this is not all there is, the hope for eternity... that has all also lessened.

So I'll take these fleeting Maelee moments because it will remind me of God's goodness to us in getting us through those awful first days. I will welcome that sting, knowing my life is so full that a brief interruption will be just that. It will remind me of her, of my sweet firstborn who had to have been a happy medium of her two siblings. Maelee. She existed and I always want to remember as vividly as time will let me.

-Heather