That is the way I measure time these days…before or after my girls. Today marks two years since I gave birth to my baby girl, my ‘Darling’ as I lovingly called her when I carried her. I am surprisingly numb; few tears gave way today. I woke up with searing shoulder pain and really should have taken off from work. Yet the prospect of staying home only to cry and think of my derailed life was too much bear. When I got to work I read am email from my colleague – her father died at roughly 3:00am today. I could not help but recall when earlier this month a former employee came by to show off her new baby boy. She situated herself in the lobby, right by the receptionist booth where I work. The ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ lasted nothing short of an hour. It was too much to bear and I felt my anxiety creeping on. I finally broke down and told my colleague that I wanted to crash in her office for a bit. I did not want her to know about my personal history and so I fibbed that a relative of mine had a had a loss and it was just difficult to see the baby.
“Life isn’t fair” was her response. WOW, enlightening I thought. But yet that was her real, authentic response, not knowing that it was really me. How simply dismissed, eh? The next day her father was admitted into the hospital (irony?). I was very supportive of her as I am now, but the bitter part of me wonders: What if I offer her “Life isn’t fair” as a response when she returns to work. That would be wrong, right?
I think part of the numbness I feel today has to do with the reality that I carry my girls in my heart and in my thoughts nearly every moment of every day. To isolate one day of the year to think of all things ‘Emi’ is rediculous. Still, I bought her flowers and I will now light a candle for her. No one has called, no one remembers her. But I do.
Emi, my sweet girl, my love for you has no end. A glorious begining, but no end. I can’t wait until the day that I can hold you and call you mine.
All mine. For all Eternity.
My God, I love you and miss you.