I have been thinking about this post for several days. But for several days, I have been too sick to even sit up long enough to type, let alone put myself through this. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to share it (even with the 3 people who *might* read this.) I still have this attitude that She Was Mine. I don't want to share her, still.

So for 4 days now, I've known I would have to let this out. I've known that eventually, I would let this slip. But I figured that I would wait until the details were foggy and it could be a few short sentences. Like I always do. Then I read this http://www.joyshope.com/2008/10/whats-in-name.html and I was/am ready. Kind of.

It's funny, the things you stumble on. I was on Pinterest and I clicked on a link to a tutorial of a crinkle toy. You know, the little tag toys/rags for babies that crinkle and make babies smile. And it was a cute blog, and I just happened to look at the title bar and see "Joy's Story."And I knew what her story was. I've read enough blogs to know. So I read it. I read every word of her story, because she is someone's daughter, and somewhere, maybe, she's Charlotte's friend.

But really, my story this week is short and simple and probably silly.

We were at a local photography studio this week, getting Sophia and her cousin's pictures taken with her Gramma and Papa. While we were waiting for our photographer, a family was leaving the studio. Mom, Dad, big sister, little sister. Big sister hung back a little, looking at the Christmas decorations, or talking to the girls.. I was distracted. Her dad said, "Come on, Charlotte." Jolt number one.

A few minutes later, we were called back to the studio. The girls were positioned on the couch, and silliness ensued. Trying to get 3 girls (age almost 4, 2, and 4 months) to both look at the camera and smile at the same time? These people are good. In the studio next to us, a little girl, maybe 4 or 5, was having her holiday pictures taken. The studios are really just one big, open room. So really, in the same room as us, the other photographer was saying, "Smile, Charlotte! Where's Charlotte? Good job, Charlotte!" Over and over, for 10 minutes. I was trying to concentrate on my own girl and her cousins. (For the record, this was the first time since the womb that Sophia has willingly posed for pictures! She was amazing!) But come on. Two little girls in less than 10 minutes named Charlotte? Are you kidding me?

So there it is. My horror story of the week. Thrown in alongside the holiday stress, the money woes we're all feeling, the craptastic weather, my upset tummy. And the fact that her 5th birthday is in 2 months. This is our 5th Christmas Without Her. The fifth time we've not been able to watch her open presents. The fifth Christmas that all I can do is hang a couple of special ornaments for her. That's all I have. I don't get to buy Christmas jammies for my two girls. I don't get to fill her little pink stocking. But everywhere around me, people are shouting her name.

I feel like I could spend most of my time being angry. That is something I've refused to do from day one. Even with our trail of disasters. My anger wont help. It wont bring our daughter back. It wouldn't fix our leaking house. It wouldn't have reversed my husband's cancer. And it wont help now. With all of the unknowns we are staring straight at. With any of the things that fate, or the universe, or God, or whatever, has taken out of our hands.

(As I am typing this, Sophia is watching Nick Jr. The little in-between shows section where a mom or dad reads to their kid. This mom was reading a book to her daughter, you guessed it, Charlotte. Seriously!?!)

Some people will tell me that maybe she's trying to say hello. Maybe this is all some sort of sign. But I can't feel her. I can't hear her voice. I can't see her face. I can only close my eyes and remember how soft her skin was. The way she smelled. The shape of her perfect red lips. And the silent house we went home to. The empty pink room. The pink frilly dress in the closet. Somewhere in all of this chaos, I will learn to survive this. Every day, I have to survive this. I have taken 3 words with me on this journey. "Believe" "Hope" and "Joy." For some reason, I was able to feel meaning in all of these. Reading that blog tonight really slapped me in the face. I need to remember my words. I think these are the things that might help me bury my anger and uncertainty. I will close my eyes tonight and I will pray, and I will hope that heaven isn't as far away as it seems. For all we know, heaven could be right next to us, waiting for us to notice it. I need to stop listening to the shouting and start listening for her voice again.

We cling to the HOPE of Heaven.

I had a dream last night that I was in Chicago and I was trying to take pictures of a rainbow with a disposable camera. Very strange. But the rainbows were everywhere. They were huge and they were vivid and I couldn't get a single one captured on my little wind up camera.

In other news.. I have a little jewelry box in my closet that my friend gave me when I was Maid of Honor at her wedding. Most of what is in it is Laura's stuff. A set of amethyst earrings and necklace in yellow gold, some Tinkerbell earrings.. But today I re-found my two sterling silver rings that I've had for about 10 years. One is an amethyst and the other is a garnet. Purple was always my favorite color, and garnet has always been my favorite semi-precious stone. So how odd is it that my 2 girls' birthstones are amethyst and garnet? And does this mean we wont have any more kids? Because I only have these two rings? Yes, I wonder and even believe stupid things like that. Sue me.

For all of October, I ignored this blog.

I had a lot to say, but I didn't say it.

October 15 we did the Walk to Remember (although to be honest, we didn't walk. We hung out and waited for the walk to be over so we could release balloons and go home.)

The other day, Sophia saw a balloon tied to a real estate sign. She said, "That balloon is floating up to Jesus." I told her that we let the balloons go up to the babies who live in heaven with Jesus.

This is Sophia with Charlotte's balloon.

She was playing with her grandpa and another balloon when Charlotte's name was read. I let go of the balloon. A few minutes later she asked where her sister's balloon was, and I told her I let it go. She cried. Mostly because I didn't let her let it go. I wonder how many years it will be before she understands any of this.

I wrote Charlotte a letter in my head today.

I've been thinking about her non-stop for 3 weeks (or so). Everything (everything, everything, every thing) reminds me of her lately. I know this isn't supposed to be easy, but it never gets less hard. I want to hold her hand and listen to her talk about her day. I am angry again. And I am hurt. And I am confused. She is so far away.

I was at the dentist today and the dental assistant was chatting me up while we waited for the dentist. She asked how many kids I have. I said, "I have two, but I only have one with me. Our first daughter passed away." She asked how long ago. "Five years this coming February." She asked how. I said, "She was stillborn at 37 weeks." She expressed sympathy and changed the subject quickly.

A few minutes later, she asked what my 3 year olds name is. I told her. Then she asked me a question that I have not encountered. "Did you name your other baby?" I was surprised. And shocked. And a little insulted. I said, "Yes, her name was Charlotte." The girl was young, not married, no kids of her own. She's obviously never been close to anyone who has experienced a loss like ours. Here's what I wish I would have told her..

Yes, we named our daughter. She was not a figment of our imaginations. She was our baby, our hope. We heard her heart beating, we saw her swimming in my body. We carried her for nine months. We talked to her, read to her, sang to her. We took her to the movies, we knew her favorite foods. We had a life planned for her, around her. She was the center of our universe. We painted her bedroom, we bought her blankets, clothing, toys. We kept a journal of the times she would kick, how she would respond to her daddy's voice. She and I had special songs that we would listen to as I drove to work. She had brown hair. She had my nose. She would have loved giraffes, and the color purple. The day we lost her was the worst day of our lives. We had to buy her a casket. We had to pick out a headstone. We had a funeral for her, but we will never get to throw her a party. I think about her every day. I miss her every moment. I would do anything to talk to her, to tell her how much I love her.

Yes, we named our daughter. Her name is Charlotte.

Tonight I feel like I don't need sleep. Like I could go for days without sleeping at all. I tried to go to bed, but couldn't fall asleep. At least there's Lifetime Movie Network.

It can't be 1:00. All Sophia and I have done today is sit on the couch and watch cartoons OnDemand. I haven't showered, cleaned, done any laundry.. And today is my last day off. I guess it doesn't help that I was up all night, nauseated and throwing up. I don't know why. Something I ate, probably.

One of the cartoons we watched had a little girl named Charlotte. It made me mad. How could they name a child Charlotte? That's our name. Don't they know that it hurt me? I guess that's one of the things I am going to have to get over. And since it only started about 2 years ago (the name bothering me) I guess it's possible that it will just stop.