Today I miss her.
I miss the way she smells, and the way her arms would curl up when I held her close to me. I miss laying in bed with her, watching her tiny chest move up and down so rhythmically. I miss her heartbeat on the monitors.
I miss the tender moments shared between husband and wife as we gazed at her, in awe of her strong spirit. I miss having heaven so close. I miss those two days where the world became still, and nothing mattered but our family.
I miss being pregnant with such a unique spirit of our father in heaven’s. I miss feeling those kicks and jabs of, “I’m here, mama. I’m still strong and I hope you are too.” I miss the beautiful feeling of hoping that as long as she was inside me, she would be safe from the world. I miss watching the two of us grow together, because now we are growing apart and time will only make it worse.
A kind woman at the gym found out that I, too, was a mother. Six weeks postpartum for me, four months postpartum for her. If asked I tell people Amelia is with my mother-in-law (which is true. I just left out the part that they are both in heaven). I lied and it hurts to do so, but what choice do I have? I don’t want pity, and I’m tired of the of awkward moments.
I’m taking a kickboxing class, releasing anger I didn’t know I had. I wear our matching bracelet and every time it catches the light I hope she’s watching me, looking over me. Forgive me, Amelia, for being angry you left me. I know it’s not your fault or my fault or anyone’s fault. I signed up for this challenge in our premortal life. I was so excited and honored to get a body here on earth, and just like you I gladly accepted the difficulties that would come with it.
Do you miss me like I miss you, Amelia? Do spirits cry in heaven for their families down on earth, maybe just a little?