Sparkling

Since Phoebe's sister has arrived I feel a heavenly connection that is hard to describe.  I have tried several times to sit and write another post on this blog.  All times, I have been unsuccessful to put what was in my heart to the page.  Here is attempt #445. (not really, but seems like it!)

There have been sweet moments that have happened in the time that I haven't blogged like this one (I started to write it in November of 2010)

I have had many "Mary" moments where I did as she, "kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart."  I have pondered your place in our family.  Why you came in the order that you did.  I have some peace as things have unfolded, things that I could not have foreseen. 

My mother's day present a month after we lost Phoebe.  I wanted something that I could always have with me as a token of my daughter. 

Were you there when Savannah saw my ring for the first time?  She touched it.  She looked at it.  It was as if she knew.  It made me miss you intensely.   She has since watched the sparkles that the diamonds play upon her skin when I hold her.  The light that reflects onto her body makes me feel like you are near.  That you are happy for this moment that I have shared with your sister.  Every time I see that sparkle from the ring that symbolizes you, I ache for what could have been and yet look forward to our future reunification. 

There have also been moments that have not been as sweet, more of a bittersweet feeling for me.

I was shutting the curtains one night in your brother's room when my eyes fell upon one of your pictures that was lying at an angle that I have never seen.  I wasn't intending on studying it.  I have passed by it several times.  Always noticing, but too hard to study.   Too hard to be reminded of those brief moments I had with you.

I looked at the way your hair was wavy, perfectly placed after your only bath.  I looked at your nose, which had been decided belonged to your Aunt Julie.  I looked at your chubby cheeks.  Your small body. 

I sat down where I was as if I had never seen you before.  I felt an intense desire to pull out your scrapbooks that I had made that I only so often pull out any more.  I caressed each page.  I relived the small moments.

I was only able to get through most of the first book before your siblings were needing my help.  When they noticed what I was doing, they sat down right by me and took over the flipping of the pages.  

I miss you.  I ache for you.  I can't wait to hold you again.  I love you.