Today is a hard, hard day. Yesterday was hard, but I expected it to be—it was mother’s day after all. Somehow, today is harder.
I found out a 15 year old at church is pregnant, due in July.
I found out a lovely friend (with whom I had lost touch) is due with her first baby, a little girl, on June 19th, my due date.
My church did the annual “baby dedication”, which they call a “Rock-In” yesterday. Hazel was the youngest baby, who would traditionally be placed in the cradle. Instead, they placed flowers in her memory.
Today, I received those flowers and the tiny pink New Testament inscribed, “In Memory of Hazel Irene Smith.”
These are lovely, kind, life-giving gestures, but how I wish we weren’t doing them! How I wish that my darling little girl was still kicking and hiccupping inside of me! How I wish that I could say, “Oh! We’re due on the same day! How cool!” How I wish I could say, “I will pass down anything you need for your little one.” How I wish that I could rock-in my Hazel NEXT year, as she should have been.
I miss my baby.