Right Where I Am: Two Years, Two Months, Ten Days

I can hardly believe it's been over two years since I last held my daughter. In ways it seems like it just happened, yet it also seems like so much time has passed. Isn't it odd how so much of my life, all 8,317 days I've lived, is focused around, because of, and affected by one.single.day. 

March 16th, 2010.

One flicker in light of eternity. One soul out of billions. Yet, because of this one little life, everything about me and my future has been forever altered. Others, too, are changed. I won't understand how many have been affected by her life until the day I arrive home. And that's okay. All I need to know is that her life had meaning. It mattered. 

And I know it did.

Time keeps marching on. Each year bringing with it newness, growth, change. Each year another without her by my side. Each year, wondering what she'd be like if she were here.

I no longer mark the 16th of each month. Occasionally, I will realize it's the 16th, which will remind me what the 16th means to me. But, it's not always on the forefront of my mind.

I don't read babyloss blogs like I once did. I try to keep up with some. They were once a lifeline, now they are an occasional read.

Grief changes, just as the seasons. How strange it is that I am like a "veteran" in this world of babyloss. I can encourage others and tell them what they might expect in the coming months. I am coming to understand more and more that though the rawness isn't there like it once was, a continual reminder...it still comes and can feel so fresh. Just not as often. I now know how to handle it. I know that it will pass. The grief, the love, has become etched into the very fabric of my being. It is so much a part of me that I cannot even remember life before Lily. I cannot remember not having a grieving mother's heart. My life is marked as either "before Lily" or "after Lily." The shock of losing her has worn off and it is now just a part of me.

"Her life had moved on, and she tried her best to live in the moment. But their baby remained in the shadows, a constant presence, there in Emma's mind the way the date or day of the week was there. She didn't go through the hours reminding herself constantly that this was Friday. It simply was Friday. And that fact stayed subtly with her, coloring the background of everything else about the day. It was like that with their baby." ~Karen Kingsbury in her book, Shades of Blue

Losing Lily and loving Lily colors every moment of my every day. Though I don't think of her nonstop, she is always there, in the back of my mind, in the midst of everything. My mom said just as her four living children are always in her thoughts, it is only natural for me as a mother to have my child in my thoughts. Just because she isn't here doesn't change that mother's love. Every day, there are so many reminders of her.

"Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color."
~W.S. Merwin

I am determined to not allow feelings, emotions, and grief to rule me. I look to Jesus Christ for my comfort, joy, and security. My hope is in Him. My hope is in eternity. My future rests in His hands. I don't know if I will ever have another baby, a healthy baby, to raise on earth. What a gift that would be.

I don't feel like I fit in anywhere. Not with singles, not with those in their 20s, not even with babyloss parents. Because I am not in a place where I can try again. And I see everyone else go on to have their "rainbow babies." Will I get my rainbow one day?

How easy it is to start feeling self-pity. I won't give in to that. Though I don't know what's to come, I trust the Lord wants what's best. He has my life, my future, Lily's life and legacy all in the palm of His hand. And I trust that. I cling to that. No matter if I never hold another child on earth that's mine, I will still love and trust Him.

"However time or circumstance may come between a mother and her child, their lives are interwoven forever." ~Pam Brown

No amount of time could change my love or take away my grief. No separation, not even the grave, could change my mother's heart. I realize that this is a life-long journey, this grief, just as I will forever be a mother. I will never be "over it," but I have accepted it. I am thankful for her life, despite how it all ended. I am thankful for the gift of knowing her, carrying her, loving her. Thankful I get to call her mine. I am learning that it's okay even if others seem to forget my daughter. I know I will never forget and that's what's important.  I am learning how to incorporate her into my life, each day. What it means to honor and love her. What it means to mother my daughter of Heaven.

What joy, what joy for those whose hope is in the name of the Lord.

What peace, what peace for those whose confidence is Him alone.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Take some time to share about where you are over on Angie's blog.