I've been thinking over these past nearly 5 years *I'm including 9 months of baby baking*. I've been mulling things over and over in my mind. I guess when you lose a child, you have a lot of things you may wish you had done differently. So here is a list of things to do now. Don't put them off.
Take pictures. Lots of them. Don't be afraid to be in pictures with your kids. I have terrible self-image and while I hate seeing myself in pictures, being in pictures with my girls has been a wonderful gift to me.
Last picture of all of us girls. Easter~4/20/14
If you have the capability...take videos. As many as you can. I'm cherishing the ones I have and wishing that I had more. I love her little voice. I miss hearing her. A lot.
3. Regardless of how your day has been, always tell them that you love them. Daily. Even multiple times a day.
4. Love on your kids. Seriously. Hug them. Kiss them. This goes hand in hand with #3. I have to say that my 11 year old still will hug and kiss me in front of her classmates. But, you didn't hear that from me. Maybe there will come a time when she won't, so for now...I'll take what I can get.
My last full body snuggle caught on camera. 4/24/14
5. Document parts of your children's lives. The first time they roll over. Sit up. Crawl. Pop a tooth. Laugh. Even if you put it in a notebook...do it! This can also piggy back with picture taking, videos, loving on them...all of it!
6. Do stuff with your children. Am I saying to spend money like a crazy person? Nope. Simple stuff like taking your kids to the playground, going for a walk, riding bikes together, drawing together, coloring together...whatever you are willing to do...DO IT! Also? This ties into most of the other stuff too.
7. Study your child. Know what they look like. Do they have birth marks? Other noticeable characteristics or features? Cora had some for sure.
Angel kisses and stork bites. She's my baby!
8. Talk to your children. Depending on how old they are, children crave time with their parents, when you are able to talk to them one-on-one. They learn from you. Just before Cora passed away, I had been working with her on L words. Words like: lap, lip, like, etc. They would come out: wap, wip, wike, etc. I'd tease her because she'd come over to me and say, "Momma, I want to get in your wap." I'd say to her, "You want a wap?" Then I'd tap her on the forehead. You know? Wap?
9. Your children don't love you with conditions, so don't love your children conditionally. Love them unconditionally. If their needs are met...they will love you no matter what.
10. Learn to say 'yes' once in a while. If you're anything like me, I am saying "no" to a lot of things. Can I stay up late? No. Can I have a cookie? No. You get the idea. There are things that you can say no to and need to be a solid NO, but there are some...that could potentially be a yes.
Why am I writing these? Maybe out of guilt that I didn't do some of these more. Maybe because I miss Cora a lot. Maybe because I know some people that really could hear these words and benefit. Maybe because you just never know if today will be your last with your children. Whatever the case may be, love with all of who you are. Love without ceasing.
Do you know how much I have loved you? The joy of feeling you move in my belly, the squirming you did--the elbows, feet and hands pushing all over as you grew inside. I lived to see you on the ultrasound machine. The flicker of your heart beating was a joy, while the sickness seemed to consume me.
You came into this life perfect and pink at exactly 12pm. My high noon baby. Ten toes, ten fingers, blonde hair and blue eyes. More than that, if you had been mixed up with another baby, I would have known...the angel kisses that touched just above your eyes and across your nose, as well as the stork that had left its bite mark at the nape of your neck, were tell-tale signs that you were in fact my baby.
You were an easy going baby. Feed me, change me, keep me warm, and snuggle me...often. And that, I could do.
Once you could walk and talk, you became 'little miss independent'. You wanted to do everything your big sisters were doing, even more so after you turned two. The words "I do it" were often part of your daily conversation.
I have decided that there is no pain greater than losing a child. I'd go through hyperemesis a thousand times over...do the PICC line over and over again...do a c-section over again with the accompanying bruising if I could just have one more day with her. Hear her tell me that she loves me, wants to hug me spontaneously, and shadow me around the house.
My head knows that she's gone. My heart does not.
I know she's gone. I was there when she slipped from this life.
Each day is new. I am constantly going to look for her because it's just too quiet. I'm wondering what she'll eat, what she'll wear, and what the next argument might entail.
I miss her little blue eyes...her sandy blonde hair...her attitude.
I miss her snuggles.
I miss her voice.
And I know I'm selfish, because I want her here...not to be in pain or to suffer, but because I miss her so.
My friends, I am in a great storm. I have been swept up into it. I smile and I laugh on the outside, but on the inside I'm crying.
Children are a gift. And while I know there have been times where my children have driven me to the point of distraction...they have been my greatest joy...my greatest love.
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