5 years

 5 years

As I sit here with your baby sister, showing her photos of you and telling her you’d be 5 years old today, I feel an anxious and nagging sense that today should be harder. Today should be unimaginable, I should be on the floor crumbling, I should be locked in my dark bedroom hiding under the blankets of my bed. But instead, I have your babbling, bubbly sister in my lap, and there suddenly isn’t as much room for those feelings anymore. It’s as if I’ve had this open wound left to slowly bleed out for so many years, and all of the sudden, Mae came and a bandage was wrapped around it. It still hurts and will undoubtedly leave a scar for all my life, but it feels like it’s finally begun to heal. And it’s so strange, because as much as this healing brings a huge sigh of relief, it’s mixed yet again with feelings of guilt. I never expected grief to come so hand in hand with guilt, but the two have been intertwined every single day since I lost you. Sometimes it feels wrong to be so happy and fulfilled since having Mae, as if another little girl came to me and took your place. Those are the intrusive thoughts I fight every time I try to reconcile the joy of motherhood I am experiencing now with the heartbreak of motherhood I’ve experienced for years. I’m experiencing moments I’ve dreamed of for decades and then mourned for half a decade. But I truly feel like you had a hand in bringing your sister to me, and I feel like each moment I share with her is also somehow shared with you. The ones we didn’t get to have together. So instead of feeling like I need to try to force myself into sadness today in order to honor you, instead, I will love and kiss and play with and snuggle your sister and think of how much she reminds me of you. Sassy, strong, sweet, stubborn, and beautiful. I will love you forever. You will always be the girl who made me a mother. I can’t believe it’s been five years…. Happy birthday, Evelyn. Mommy loves and misses you 💕