The Right Things to Say

I was surprised, pleasantly, by how many people called or emailed or sent me a note on Henry's birthday. In addition to all of your lovely comments on Henry's birthday, here are some of the things I heard:

I am thinking of you and holding you close in my heart.
I'm thinking about Henry today.
I hope the day is gentle on you.
Your dear sweet Henry lives on in all our hearts!

Would Be, Should Be

My boy, my Henry would be, should be two today.
I would be, should be making a cake with two candles,
would be, should be wiping frosting and ice cream off chubby cheeks,
would be, should be following little toddling legs around.
I would be, should be remembering the day he was born and marveling at how big he has gotten.

But he is gone.
And I will be visiting the cemetery to plant a batch of johnny jump-ups,
will be digging around in his garden, in the rain,
will be planting red flowers,
will be holding and loving his little sister and telling her of her angel brother.
I am remembering the day he was born and and wishing he were here.

Late May

We are sneaking up on Henry's birthday. Just two more days and my boy would be two. Last night at a regular potluck dinner with friends, we celebrated the birthday of one of the babies from the spring/early summer 2007 crop, the ones whose mamas I posed with for big belly photos, the ones Henry was supposed to grow up with.

There were three of those babies there last night, one born in March, one just days before Henry, and one two weeks later in June. For months after Henry died I couldn't look at these babies, or I could only give them sidling glances. Now I can watch, I can smile, I can interact. The sadness is not overwhelming during these interactions, but more of a wearying, lingering thing, thinking of Henry and what he should be doing right now.

The Way My Mind Works

I saw the title of the latest post of one of the blogs I read:
In the ground.

I immediately thought of a burial. A tiny coffin. A babylost mama and daddy.

But this particular blog was one of the few non-babylost blogs I read and it was about planting, which in another world is where my mind would have gone this time of year.

For Magie and Her Mommy

I've been thinking of Magie today.

I knew Magie through the glass, because she was Henry's next door neighbor for much of his stay in the CICU. I knew her mom from the hospital hallways. We'd wave good morning and peek at each other's babies through the adjoining doorway.

I remember watching Magie's activity during her better days,
the pink, fluffy sign her mommy made lovingly for her hospital crib,
glimpses of her cute face from the window.

I know that she loved the Disney cartoons,
that her mommy was excited to watch the parade with her on Thanksgiving,
that pink was her color.

I think of her when I see a pink sky at sunset
or the fluffy pink-tinged clouds at dawn.

I have a special place in my heart for Magie in part because she was part of Henry's story, and in part because there were so many parallels between their stories.

She was born 15 days before Henry. Today is her second birthday, so I'm thinking of her. And I'm thinking of her mommy, who started on this babylost journey just 5 days before I started on mine.

Happy Birthday, Magie.
Love and peace, Magie's mommy.