Memorials

Each day gets a little bit easier in its own way. Some days have their tough moments - the play, the television show, a text from my cousin informing me that their healthy baby is a boy. Each day I do a slightly better job of living. I'm certainly not "over it," nor do I think I'll ever be completely, but one week and one day past the moment that my dream fell apart and I find I can work again. I can smile again. I still can't go into the room we were saving for him without breaking down into tears, but that step will come too, eventually.

This blog entry is a step as well. This is the first entry that I've written without crying. I don't want the memory of my first child, however briefly he existed, to be one that always hurts. I had wonderful moments that I shared with that little tiny spark of life. Someday, God willing, I want to share with the other children we'll hopefully have that they have an older brother, even if they can never meet him in this life.

I've been thinking a little bit about ways to remember this first child. I went out and bought a piece of jewelry, a ring, with an opal and blue topaz in it. Opal would have been his birthstone. Blue topaz is mine. Now I get to sit here and glance at it any time I want and remember him, even if it's only a ring.