Isabel

My little girl would be nine. When she was born I thought my heart would burst I loved her so much. Her Dad and Grandma were in the room too. He felt the same for her and showed me the tender, loving care he gave her. Her Grandma beamed with pride. She cried as she held her beautiful granddaughter in her arms. They both thanked me for giving birth to her. I cradled my baby girl in my arms, everything was perfect, I thanked God for this experience.

Three hours and forty-five minutes later she took her last breath in my arms. Our hearts were broken. I was there for her first breath and her last. I spent every minute of her life with her. She knew only love and peace. I thanked God for this experience.

Ok, really? Really? What were they thinking?

October Again...

I can't believe she'll be nine this month. As I mourn her father, I haven't been as focused on my baby girl. Not that I don't miss her, I just haven't been drowning in the same waves of grief that seem to come lapping at me every October. Instead, I welcome the familiar waves as I look at the horizon afraid of the next month lurking in the depths of the angry water threatening to overtake me with a tidal wave of grief.