A week or two ago, a dear friend asked me about Amelia. “Her birthday is coming up, isn’t it? What are you going to do?”
I kind of just stood there with a blank look on my face. I turned my head away so she wouldn’t see the tears welling up in my eyes, and the way the corners of my mouth turns down when it prepares for an ugly cry. What do I say to that? I thought to myself. What are we going to do for her birthday?
It’s caught me off-guard – has it almost already been a year? And why do I feel like bursting into tears when you suddenly mention her name? Do we “celebrate” her birth? Do I just ignore it? It seems like only weird people would acknowledge a dead person’s birthday, right? (But do you acknowledge their death day? These are scary, uncharted waters I’m swimming in.)
I was doing really well for a while, and now “the year mark” is approaching. [I also feel like it’s unfair for a young mother like me to have to deal with the death anniversary of her own child. But I don’t make the rules.] Now I can’t even think of her in my head or I start to get weepy. I’ve started to put up a wall again. Forgive me, Amelia, for I’ve started to pretend as if you never existed to cope with this ever-approaching doom day.
I feel like I had finally made it to a really good place. I was doing so well – I held babies, I wanted another baby (!!), and I could do things walk through the Target baby isle again, tear-free. But now “the year mark” is upon me and I’ve got the sweaty palms of a teenager. The previous affirmations of “I can do this again” are quickly being overshadowed by the devastations of last summer. Don’t you remember how hard that was to bury her tiny body in the ground? Do you really want to take the chance that you might have to do that again?
I don’t know what we’re going to do for Amelia’s birthday. I don’t get to throw my little girl a birthday party, and it sucks. I don’t get to celebrate with our closest friends and family that we “made it” through her first year. I don’t get to watch her, delighted and confused, as she eats birthday cake for the first time and plays with wrapping paper.
…the question still remains – what do we do on the twenty-seventh of August to commemorate her short little life?
Alex, I have heard of people releasing helium balloons as a symbol of them going up to her in heaven. It is very natural and part of the healing process to feel the grief your are feeling as her birth approaches. That year of firsts is a long, tough, road sweetie. I will keep you in my prayers. Sending love and hugs your way. Heidi
I have heard that too. That’s a neat idea.
What if you, Tyler and Jack visited Amelia and had a small picnic lunch? You could still be remembering her on her day and keep it small and personal for your family–no fake smiles, no hiding tears, just honest time on a special but difficult day.
I think you should have a party for her 1st Birthday! She is still a part of your family and I’m sure jack would enjoy it! Jack can blow out the candle for her:) Love you and your family so much! This post is so touching to me. You are wonderful!
I agree with Sarah. Have a celebration of her wonderful life. Do something fun that your family can enjoy and know that Amelia is with you in Spirit if not in body. Love you so much!