Sometimes I feel like I am going to break apart. Pieces of me flying in different directions. It doesn't take much to shatter me. It's a horrible feeling, because I think, look at everything I have. This beautiful life I've been given. My beautiful rainbow girl who spins light into everything she does. But I still think, this is wrong. Raising Sophia alone is wrong. Without her sister, without the best friend she never got to meet. I think, since she's all we have left, we will give her everything. We will spoil her and keep her surrounded with love and support. But it's still not enough. We can't buy her the life she was supposed to have.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
When I was 16 weeks pregnant, Mike and I went to Fetal Photos. We have a long DVD of our baby dancing in my belly. She was actually pushing off of my bladder and bouncing from my ribs and back again. She was opening and closing her hand. The tech said she was saying hello. That is the day we found out we were having a daughter. I was speechless. I was ecstatic. I refused to tell anyone because I thought it was a mistake. We waited until our 20 week appointment to tell anyone because I thought the news would change. But after we left Fetal Photos, we went to Target to buy our daughter her first presents. Shoes, of course. I knew from the moment I saw them, that if I had a daughter, I would buy her these tiny ballet slippers. Mike insisted on the sherpa boots, which are identical to a pair I own. We took the shoes home, never thinking that our daughter would not wear them. Not imagining for a second that the shoes would sit unused in a box, on a shelf in a closet.
Seeing these tiny shoes causes me actual physical pain. Remembering the awe of that day. The hope. The blind joy. This is my day 28.