I'm struggling so hard with how to begin this. Its like I get the middle of these posts all worked out in my head but how to start that just escapes me. Norah Hazel will be a year old tomorrow. Craziness. Utter craziness. I'm baking a birthday cake as I type this (I was about to put "as we speak" but it occurred to me that I'm not speaking). I have a pink tutu on a box in front of me for her to wear at her party. Nuts. I am so excited to give her her very first cupcake tomorrow at home with just us and see her reaction to her birthday candle and sing happy birthday to her and see her open her gifts from me and her dad. I have been just dying to give her her presents. It is unbelievable that she went from a tiny tiny baby to this rough playing, standing up, squealing, silly face making, crazy child in just 12 short months. She is the happiest child I think I have ever seen. And she loves to cuddle and be close, which just makes mommy feel awesome. She loves Sesame Street which for some reason makes me feel successful as a parent. She loves her blocks and stuffed kitty cat and her truck. Jay cut the cord off of an old old xbox controller and she adores her video game like daddy has. She is silly and wonderful and sometimes trying but overall just the most amazing child I have ever seen. I am proud to be her mother.
We am picking out pictures of Aislynn to have at the birthday party. I tied matching tulle on her heartbeat lamb because I can't make her a tutu. I don't get to see her eat cake. I don't get to give her presents. I have to wait a lifetime to see her play and hear her voice. But her life has value. I am proud to be her mother. I am proud to have carried her. And I am proud that we were strong enough to be joyful with her in the moments she spent on this earth. I am honored that we got to see her all the way through her journey. That sounds so right, doesn't it? Like exactly what I'm supposed to say to show how strong I am and how much faith I have and show everyone that its all okay.
Well, I don't always feel like any of that. Its always true, every word of it is always true, but I don't always feel like saying it. Sometimes I'm pretty pissed that she's not here. I feel like she was stolen from us, our twin girls, this image I had in my mind when they told me we were having twins, was ripped from us unjustly. Sometimes I can't even make it through a church service and spend most of it sobbing my guts out on a couch in the bathroom. I am haunted by the thoughts of "this time last year." This time last year I think I was about to be moved out of Labor and Delivery and over to Antepartum in the hospital. And I have been doing that for three days. I think part of me is not only mourning Aislynn but the abrupt end to my time carrying them. It was so sudden, I had a lovely baby shower and then bam! they are coming and its to early and I'm not ready for any of this, least of all to have to tell Aislynn goodbye. I ache with longing to hold both of my girls. Today, that voice is screaming that this isn't fair.
But I go on. Its so cliche to say but I have to go on. I have a cake cooling so I can use the same pan to make another (its a small cake pan for her smash cake and my mom only has the one but its what I wanted so I do this the long way). Then I have some cupcakes to make too for our little party. I have to find letter stencils and make sure I remember to buy apples and cut little felt circles. Its not all grief and pain, its unbelievably large amounts of crazy hopeful joyfulness. I can't imagine our lives any different, for all that I try to. I will try to remember last year with joy, and I will focus on the happiness both our girls have brought us. And now I will finish a birthday cake.
Happy birthday, Norah Hazel.
Happy birthday, Aislynn Marie and Happy anniversary in Heaven, baby girl.
