Saturday, May 16, 2015

3 months

3 months.  Chubby cheeks.  Chubby arms!  Baby yawns.  First smiles.  Ooooh first smiles!  How I wish these delights filled my days.  Instead, there is dusting the urn and pictures, candles of remembrance, and tears of sorrow.  Oh those tears of sorrow are so potent.  It’s been 3 months since Qiunn’s arrival and I still cry everyday.  90 days of tears.  Some tears fill a whole bucket while others gently stream down my cheeks.  I embrace my tears and am at peace with living with them forever because they are the expression of my soul.

However, there are also nice things like picking wildflowers to put next to Quinn’s urn, speaking her name, and doing things in her honor.  Quinn taught me many lessons including that life is short.  Her life ended before she could even live it.  The time to enjoy life is now.  One of my favorite inspirations so far from my new lifeline, “Healing after loss,” by Martha Hickman is: if this moment is good, then live it.  Savor it.  Take it in all 5 senses.  Live the moment.  Not every moment – just some.  I like this because it allows you freedom to have bad and sad moments too, but when it is good – live it. 

good and bad on shoulder

This has helped me because I fear the future pretty severely but I can at least recognize a good moment and I try to live it.  I'm also very grateful for the people in my life who help me see these moments.  Live it for Quinn because she can’t.  This is easier said than done and there are days when I have to battle grief so hard in order to live the moment.  I feel like I have a devil on each shoulder, just like the cartoons.  Grief is on one and “Live the moment” is on the other.  When a good moment comes by, I have to decide if I am going to listen to the grief and let it slip by or if I am going to really LIVE it.  Sometimes the grief wins – in fact often it does.  He’s a persistent little devil on my shoulder, but trying to live the moment allows me to be a better mom to R and helps me more purposefully honor Quinn.
On Quinn’s 3-month anniversary, I end with the first words I wrote after she died.  These are nothing more than simple words strung together because that was all I could manage at the time.  My mind, body, and soul were all paralyzed.  The entry before these words was written by Josh: “2/16/15 at 3am - 8cm. Checked in to hospital!”  We didn’t know what would happen at 3:38am…


I’m sad I’ll never know you.
I’ll never know the little person that you are and the big personality that you will become.
Your skin is so soft.
You look so healthy.  Are you sleeping?  I’m waiting for your eyes to open.
You are so pretty sweet Quinn.
I’ll never smell your sweet breath.
I love touching your tiny fingers.
Your skin is cool now.
I wish you could feel my skin against yours.
My touch.
My intense love for you.
I’ll hold you in my heart forever if you promise to do the same.

No comments:

Post a Comment