I felt the need to feel close to my daughter this afternoon, so Isaiah and I visited her grave.
Sixteen months have passed.
Another couple was also in the baby section of Roselawn Memorial Park where Lydia is buried. They were also visiting their daughter's grave, stillborn 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years later and the mother stood weeping at her daughter's grave. It was like seeing myself in another 21 years.
My heart forever aches. Sixteen months is long enough to live with this. Can I have my daughter back? That's what I want for Christmas: both my children in my arms. I want to hear my little girl laugh. I want to hold her and kiss her and sing to her.
Yet it is another Christmas season without her here. Every Christmas for as long as I am living will be without her with me. My husband recently wrote and presented a paper concerning mother's who have had stillborn babies. In his research he read a study that found the loss of a child to be the most profound and deepest of grief, compared to the loss of a spouse, sibling or parent. I cannot personally testify that the grief is greater than with those other significant losses, but I can testify that is unimaginably painful.
Mixed feelings this Christmas. So very excited to share it with our son, but ever aware of the hole in my heart and in our family.