One Month

Today, July 2nd, marks one day since I had my little girl. I expected it to be a hard day. Don't get me wrong, it was hard, but it was not as hard as I expected. The morning was difficult. We got up and started to get ready to go to Enid. The day kind of loomed ahead of me. I knew it would be hard, and it was as if it was already planned out for me, like the weather man saying "and today folks, we have a 100% chance of sadness with a huge possibility of tears".

We ventured out of town and the clock in the van seemed much larger than it really is. As the minutes clicked by I recalled what was happening to me at that same moment a month ago. As the hour of Ila's birth neared, my stomach knotted up. I don't know why the minutes mattered any more than the day itself.

Just as we got everyone into my mother in law's house the tears started to come. I didn't really hide so much as go out of the way a bit to avoid making everyone else sad. My sweet husband 'found' me and loved on me. He's such a great comfort. This last month I haven't wanted to be away from him at all.

We left the boys at Grandma's house and headed out to prepare the lake house for the upcoming holiday. I scrubbed and cleaned all day while Stephen and his dad took care of the outdoor work. It was nice to spend the day helping someone else. I thought of Ila often but didn't spend my day in a puddle, which was what I anticipated after the last couple days being so hard. So many friends offered me such comfort and a needed release just by listening to me talk ( or type ).

As we finished our days work and headed back into town, I started to get that knotted feeling again. We had planned to go out to the cemetery with the boys to show them where she is buried and place a pretty pink pinwheel we picked out. The closer we got, the sicker I felt. I honestly thought I might throw up, literally this time! I sent a text to a few prayer warrior friends of mine and asked them to pray for me. I'm not one to go to cemeteries and put out flowers and such. But for some reason, it was important to me to go there today.

Just how most things turn out, it was different than I expected. When we first arrived I kind of stalled a little at the van while half the family ran on ahead. When I made my way over to my family, I wasn't crying or throwing up. I was kind of a numb feeling for a bit. When Stephen and I started talking is when my tears started to pour out. I love him so much and I'm sad for him too, he also, lost his lil' cupcake.

We talk about our baby, our boys and had a sweet moment reflecting on a special aspect of her name. While gathering up our troops we meander through the cemetery and little Stephen talks to me about a couple of headstones. He questions one that has two names but one name only has one date. I told him it was a husband/wife plot but the wife was still alive. He seemed completely baffled by that and really made a face when I said Meme's headstone was already there. We drove over to where my Dad, grandma and brother are buried to show him. As soon as Danny jumps out of the car he points at my dads headstone, not even knowing it's his Papa's, and yells "I call that motorcycle!!!" It lightened the mood in a perfect way.

Tonight I am grateful that I got to tuck my boys into bed, sing Jesus Loves Me, kiss my husband and remember my daughter. Tonight, with a peace that only God can provide, I will sleep. Today was a good day.