Good Morning, Little Girl and happy birthday. It’s a hard day for me as today would have been your birthday. I think of you every day and the sweet little baby you will always be to me. I only carried you in my belly for a few short weeks but will carry you in my heart for the rest of my days. When I saw those two pink lines – I instantly knew you were a girl.
On the day you left us back in March– I wasn’t sure I could ever go on – how would I “get over” you? How would I move on? And what I’ve learned was that those were never attainable goals of things I needed to do. I needed time and I needed to adjust to having my baby live in heaven instead of here with us. I was slightly comforted in the fact I wasn’t alone – that there are lots of mommas whose babies go to heaven all too quickly. And I was comforted by the image that God presented me with one night, lying in bed thinking about you.
To me, you are swaddled in light pink baby blankets, rocked in a rocking chair by your Great Gramma Halmhuber in heaven. I imagine the little girl you would have become; stubborn and sweet just like your big brother, your baby blues conning me into giving in to your every request. I pictured us having lovely tea parties, playing dress up and painting your nails. I imagine the crazy teenager you would have morphed into that I’m sure would leave me wondering how your grandma put up with me in my crazy adolescent years. I imagine the big joyful tears streaming down my face as I watched the woman you’d become walking down the aisle and someday holding your own babies.
I long to snuggle you and breathe in that baby smell and the sweet pinkness that encompasses little, tiny, girl babies. I long to comfort you in the wee hours of the morning, rock you in your room, and connect with you as you sleep on my chest. I long for your brother to know you, protect you and show you everything about this world we live in. I wish for your daddy to hold you in his arms and know that while girl babies are scary – he wouldn’t have our family any other way.
Tonight, Cameron, your daddy and myself (and your baby brother or sister in my belly) went to a park on Anchor Bay and released a pink lantern into the sky to celebrate your birthday and honor you, sweet baby. Cameron asked sadly, as it floated to heaven, “Is that lantern becoming a star?”
“Yes,” we replied. Our little star. We will think of you when we look at a beautiful night sky and remember how we celebrated your birthday.
And I know that while all of my dreams for you may not be realized, I do know that I will someday be reunited with you and hold you in your sweet pinkness and for now, that is enough.
Happy birthday, little girl, I love you.