Six and a Half Months

I’ve taken a couple of weeks off, but this Sunday, I’m participating again in “Stream of Consciousness Sunday”, hosted by Jana of Jana’s Thinking Place. The idea is to type for 5 minutes, a brain dump of sorts, and then to publish without editing the writing at all.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday

I wonder if it will ever cease to amaze me, how quickly a bolt of grief can flash through a perfectly good week and leave wreckage in its’ wake that takes days to clean up.

I was sitting in afternoon car line, waiting to pick Lakin up from the middle school. Addah was passing the time by running around in the grass and climbing into and out of the front seat. The driver of the car in front of us got out and walked around her car to the rear passenger door. I remember that I admired her haircut and the cool knee-high boots she was wearing.

She leaned into her car for a moment and then straightened up, holding a beautiful little baby boy. He was just the cutest thing, with big wide eyes looking at everything over his mama’s shoulder. Addah edged closer and asked her how old he was. She smiled and replied, “he’s six and a half months, honey”.

My daughter turned back to our car, leaned in the window and asked, “Mom, how old would Clara be now?”

“Six and a half months, honey.”

Tears flooded my eyes and my hand on the gear shift was white-knuckled and sweaty. Addah climbed into the front seat and put her small hand over mine. Her eyes said that she knew what I was feeling, that she felt it too, and we didn’t need to voice it any more than that.

On the same day, David came home and told me how a teacher had brought her baby girl into work that afternoon. He was cleaning the first grade art room, when a small group of teachers came in to admire the baby. Her proud mama was telling them about all of her milestones, how she was sitting up by herself, cooing and cutting her first tooth.

He said the little one watched him over the shoulders of the adoring women, and as hard as he tried to ignore her, he kept feeling drawn to stop and gaze at her sweet little face. I asked him how old the baby was.

“Six and a half months, honey.”

That was days ago, and neither of has been able to shake the confusing mix of depression and jealousy, desire and inexplicable anger, regret and loss that tore through us, separately but equally, in that moment. It’s hard to focus on much of anything else, with those emotions tap dancing on our hearts.

We miss our baby today, terribly.

Sand Butterfly for Clara

6 Replies to “Six and a Half Months”

  1. So many tears, so much sadness where there should have been nothing but joy. I am so sorry for all you have been through, for the reminders every day that shake you to your core. I am sure you have heard this before, born sleeping …it sounds gentle as tho they are already in the arms of God, peaceful and loved …
    Much love to you xxxx

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