I have tons that I'm excited to update about. But this little boy has been on my mind so much recently, that maybe for the sake of my own sanity, I need to post about it. My feelings can be summed up in this quote I found from a friends blog, who is also the mother of an angel baby:
“Death does not unmake a mother. If anything, we need to be more resourceful in our mothering. There are no parenting books
, no theories on how to parent a dead child. But we still parent. We just make it all up, each day, as we go along, hurting and healing. Parenting is just tailoring maternal love to fit each child. We do that with our dead babies too. We wonder which flower would honor their lives, we relish speaking their names. We collect drawings of butterflies, quotes that touch our hearts, we write their names on the sand and in the snow.
, no theories on how to parent a dead child. But we still parent. We just make it all up, each day, as we go along, hurting and healing. Parenting is just tailoring maternal love to fit each child. We do that with our dead babies too. We wonder which flower would honor their lives, we relish speaking their names. We collect drawings of butterflies, quotes that touch our hearts, we write their names on the sand and in the snow.
We remember. We remember all the time. We remember the love. Also, the pain. That odd quality we have about us… it’s because we have something special. We have extra love in our hearts. Love that can’t translate into choosing the safest rear-facing car seat, so it becomes love that wonders and meanders, most times with nowhere to go. So this love with no port, it flutters about. Sometimes it bursts out through tears, stinging sobs. Other times it makes for a sideways smile when we remember our child. And it always makes us seem just a teeny bit off. Because we are. A little person is missing from our arms. But all the love for them is here, inside us, bubbling away in everything we do.”
we have about us… it’s because we have something special. We have extra love in our hearts. Love that can’t translate into choosing the safest rear-facing car seat, so it becomes love that wonders and meanders, most times with nowhere to go. So this love with no port, it flutters about. Sometimes it bursts out through tears, stinging sobs. Other times it makes for a sideways smile when we remember our child. And it always makes us seem just a teeny bit off. Because we are. A little person is missing from our arms. But all the love for them is here, inside us, bubbling away in everything we do.”
Everyday, I remember. But today, I choose to remember the love. Even though the pain is just a thought away, I choose hope and joy. It's a good feeling.
♥♥♥♥♥♥