A date engraved in my mind and heart.
The day our little girl was due to arrive in this world.
2 years ago today.
Adeline was born on February 20 instead.
Her body born and delivered into my arms
Her soul born and delivered into Heaven.
Our little Angel.
Today is a day full of wonder, sadness and confusion.
I see kids her age and can’t look at them.
I don’t want to look at them, I want to look at her.
I see pregnant mommies and can’t look at them.
I don’t want to look at them, I want to look at my own pregnant belly.
It is still a day that, 2 years later, still doesn’t feel real.
Her hair color.
Her favorite book.
The sound of her laugh.
It is an indescribable feeling to dream of these things and miss these things.
It’s confusing when these things never got the chance to be.
Milestone dates and holidays, they are painful and different.
Due date anniversary.
It has always been difficult to me that others don’t say anything.
That others don’t seem to remember.
I’ve never craved acknowledgement so much in my life as I do with her existence.
An existence that is ignored.
An existence that makes other people uncomfortable.
Adeline Angel, oh how I wish this was your second birthday.
I wish I knew if you were a kid that would dive right into your cake.
Or if you were a kid that wouldn’t like her hands dirty.
I wish family was here, and you were here.
And I wish your laugh was filling our backyard on this day.
Instead, I’m sitting in the backyard.
Phoebe is laying in the sun.
I have a book on grief sitting beside me.
And a giant yellow butterfly is dancing around the Snapdragons on the patio.
Is that you, sweet girl?
Thank you for visiting me on your due date anniversary.
I needed that.
I see you.
I love you.
Thank you for sharing your story. I believe that butterfly was your daughter in some way. I delivered my son, Luca, at 15 weeks on February 27th. Just a few weeks later our first daffodil opened, quite early, well before even my mom’s or friends who all live in slightly warmer areas (we’re on a mountain). The first day only one opened, and I truly believe it was Luca speaking to me. That he somehow sent me an early spring because he knew I needed it this year.
I agree with what you said about acknowledgement. People stop mentioning it. No one ever says their names – so heartbreaking as it’s the sweetest name I know. I need him to be remembered. My son was born the day before my birthday, and I vowed to always celebrate him at that time.
Adeline will live on forever in the memory of those who love her and the sharing of your story. Lots of love to you, mama.
Loving Adeline says
I am so deeply sorry to hear of your loss. I feel so honored that you have chosen to share your Luca with me and the signs he has sent you as the daffodils opened. I love how those little signs show up in our lives at the moments we need them the most. Thank you for sharing your heart with me and your kind words.