Lydia's funeral pictures I just received a couple weeks ago from my mother. They are more painful for me to see than the pictures of my baby. It is difficult for me to look at myself in those pictures. I feel like my face displays the definition of sorrow and grief. And there are the pictures of the smallest white casket. Caskets shouldn't come in that size.
Scrapbooking has been good in helping me grieve. I've shared the scrapbook with others. Some have not wanted to see pictures, others mention the pictures are so sad, some flip through it quickly (yes, I take it personally). I've found all women who have lost a child (and a rare few who have not lost a child) look slowly, carefully, respectfully. They comment on the pictures; exclaim over the beauty of my Lydia Grace; point out her precious fingers and toes; study her face to find characteristics of my husband or me; ask about that day, her service. I like that. First for myself and second for those who care, I plan to keep scrapbooking and keep sharing with those who are interested.
The mention of my child's name may bring tears to my eyes, but it never fails to bring music to my ears.
If you are really my friend, let me hear the beautiful music of her name. It soothes my broken heart and sings to my soul.
Last week I received a gift in the mail from an unexpected person. A woman with whom I have never felt particularly close and I rarely see, sent me this necklace. I was touched and have worn the necklace every day since I received it. In this journey I have found it so interesting that those I may have thought would be supportive are different than those that are still around 13 weeks later. Thanks for the support and prayers. I appreciate it.