9 Months Truly?

How could it already be 9 months? Was it really this long ago that I held my second born? Why does it still feel like just last month that I heard her tiny cry. How can my arms still ache as much for her now as they did when I had to say goodbye? How can it be 9 months since they laid her on my chest and as soon as I spoke, her head shot up and stared straight into my eyes with her huge brown eyes with perfectly curled lashes, as if to say, "I know you. I recognize your voice. I know you are my mommy." In that instant, my heart was forever welded to hers.

Nine months seems like forever, and yet just like it was yesterday. Did we really just get through the first Christmas without Arrayah? Is her birthday really in just 3 short months? How is it that it has already been over a year since we knew we were going to have to say goodbye and were shattered in that moment?

Would I really have a nine month old baby crawling and pulling herself up on things? Things would be so different. And, there are so many times when small, insignificant things reminds me of this. Dressing Sahara reminds me that I should have another little girl to dress. Buckling her into the car seat reminds me that I should have another one to buckle in. And, although these thoughts have stopped coming every day, there are still times when it feels so lonely. When I feel so lonely.

Having Isla does not change anything. Instead of two girls, I should have three. And, although Ry could never be replaced, it does help, just a bit that we do have another little girl coming. And, in April. Due only 3 days after Arrayah's birthday.

Things change. Grief is a strange and lonely thing. People act differently around you, or just completely ignore you. I don't know if I would rather be around people who know about Arrayah, or those who don't know what a horrendous and agonizing year 2011 was. Is it better to be around someone that doesn't know what to say, or worse, thinks that since Isla is on the way, we have gotten 'over' Ry. Or is it better to be around people who don't know that Isla is our third little girl. People that don't know that our family will never be complete on this earth because we are missing a beautiful daughter? In a way I look forward to the question, "how many kids do you have?", and on the other hand, I completely dread it. Sure I get to talk about her, and yet, how uncomfortable will that make the conversation. Will they try to avoid me from that time on. Or will they think how unloving a mother I am because I am not bawling when I tell them. Will they be naive enough to think that since I smile when I think of her, that I'm completely over her? Or that it was really not that bad? All these things race through my mind when this question comes my way. How much do I share? Should I just say 'three' and leave it at that? I already made the mistake of saying 'one' shortly after she died and I hated the feeling. I hated myself for saying that number and relived that moment for months after, wishing I could go back.

There are still moments of agony. But, time has helped. As much as I would love to hold her again, I would never ever rewind and go back. The time after was the lowest time of my life. Just wishing that I were dead, too. I have realized that I am a much stronger person than I ever thought. But never do I want to live through those first few months again. It truly was excruciating.

Ja reminded me just a couple weeks ago about King David and Bathsheba and how their baby died, and how afterward they conceived Solomon and how he was their special joy. Perhaps, Isla will be mine. Already she has made me excited. Maybe she will help Arrayah's birthday not feel so lonely.

I love you, Sweet Ry. You will always be my little girl.