I found myself thinking of Isabelle on Sunday. It was the 9 month anniversary of her death. Unfortunately, I found myself reliving that day over and over again. Not my favorite part of grieving.
Specifically I remember the sound of her last breaths. They were so harsh and ragged, and I remember that for 4 hours we expected each breath to be her last, only to have Dr. Sandiford come in and listen to her heart and then leave the room again. We tried to tell her as many times as we could how much we loved her and we tried to sound positive, but I don't think I've ever hurt so much.
What I remember the most was how much I kept wanting my miracle to happen. How much I wanted her to wake up and cry and wave her arms. How much I wanted everyone to be wrong. How much I wanted more time for my miracle to happen. It didn't and she's gone. I know. I am learning to live with it.
Someone asked me just the other day how I got out of bed and left the house every day. And the answer to that question is simple and two parts.
Madeline and Abigail need me to be the mother I have always been, unorganized, forgetful, sometimes cranky, but always there and involved. I need to be in their classrooms to know their teachers, and their Girl Scout Leader, and at their recitals and practices and competitions. They need me to be somewhere other than under the covers feeding my grief.
Isabelle needs me to make her mark on the world. Madeline and Abigail wil grow up and make their own impact. They will have a place in the world and they will make their own unique footprint. Isabelle doesn't get to. She started work here that can have affect so many, but she didn't have time to finish it, to make her unique mark. So it is my job, it is Duffy's job to finish it for her.
So that is how I get out of bed, and lots of days, they're the only reasons I get out of bed.
Specifically I remember the sound of her last breaths. They were so harsh and ragged, and I remember that for 4 hours we expected each breath to be her last, only to have Dr. Sandiford come in and listen to her heart and then leave the room again. We tried to tell her as many times as we could how much we loved her and we tried to sound positive, but I don't think I've ever hurt so much.
What I remember the most was how much I kept wanting my miracle to happen. How much I wanted her to wake up and cry and wave her arms. How much I wanted everyone to be wrong. How much I wanted more time for my miracle to happen. It didn't and she's gone. I know. I am learning to live with it.
Someone asked me just the other day how I got out of bed and left the house every day. And the answer to that question is simple and two parts.
Madeline and Abigail need me to be the mother I have always been, unorganized, forgetful, sometimes cranky, but always there and involved. I need to be in their classrooms to know their teachers, and their Girl Scout Leader, and at their recitals and practices and competitions. They need me to be somewhere other than under the covers feeding my grief.
Isabelle needs me to make her mark on the world. Madeline and Abigail wil grow up and make their own impact. They will have a place in the world and they will make their own unique footprint. Isabelle doesn't get to. She started work here that can have affect so many, but she didn't have time to finish it, to make her unique mark. So it is my job, it is Duffy's job to finish it for her.
So that is how I get out of bed, and lots of days, they're the only reasons I get out of bed.
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