If Only He Knew

Everyday Life. It never stops, it's constantly going, constantly taking us somewhere and constantly trying to teach us some new miraculous meaning to each experience we encounter. It happens so fast and before we know what is happening we begin to just exist. We begin to drown out the deeper meaning of our existence and the glorious details of every minute.  How long had my eyes been closed to everyday life before this happened?! How often had I glanced at everything from the surface and watched the true meaning pass me by?! How often had I spoke to a stranger, simple words, and not truly understood the full impact those words might have had?!

"Baby!"

...said Levi as Adam held  him close while we waited in line. Levi was infactuated with the cutest little guy in front of us; he was all snuggled up in his car seat carrier, being held by his dad and just smiling from ear to ear.

My husband responded, "That's right Levi, that's a baby. Can you say Hi to the baby?"

The teachers at school had been prepping Levi for his baby sisters arrival, taking him into the nursery and having him "help " with the babies. They told me for months that he was a natural, that he loved going into the nursery to bring toys to each wiggly, smiling and happy little friend. I would always smile as they told me the stories and I would always be so thankful and grateful to know how lucky I was to have such a warm-hearted and compassionate first child as Levi.

As Levi continued to be entraced by this tiny human being the Dad of the little guy turned to look at me and with a huge grin on his face proceeded to say...

"Mom, I think this is a sign that he's ready for another one."

UGH! and just like that there it was, the gut wrenching throb to my entire body, that feeling that I had been doing so well to dull; it was now exploding in full force and it was sharp.  As sharp a feeling as it was the moment I came off that operating table on March 18th, as sharp as it was the moment the doctor told me that Harper's heart had stopped beating while she was cradled in my arms, there it was raw and without pretense. How was I going to hide it this time?  Every emotion that I had been trying to tuck away inside of me only to open on rare occasions had been kicked over and spilled everywhere. I was so vulnerable.

 I took a deep breath and quickly smiled back, managed to break out a little laugh and tried to direct my attention towards Levi and his new found friend again. If only this dad knew how much I would do anything at this moment to have my daughter physically with us. If only this dad knew how much Adam and I tried to build a bond and friendship for Levi to cherish with a sibling so close in age. If only this dad knew what the past two months had held for us and how that the only wish I had for this moment was that we too were holding a little baby in a carrier at this exact same time. If only he knew...

But he didn't know, and we won't always know the journey someone is on and the roads they have had to take to get there. Some people you will find are an open book and will tell you their whole life story in 5 minutes or less while there are others who will quickly smile, let out a gentle laugh and acknowledge your words all while silently being torn apart on the inside. And both answers are appropriate, both are examples of how grief wears masks that we may never see or know. Now that I've been a "wearer" of one of these masks I feel I  have been given a better appreciation and a better understanding of the everyday things. These unexpected moments that seem to always catch me off guard are crucial to my continued learning and explorations of these raw sentiments. These emotions and these unexpected moments help me locate where the broken pieces still reside and allow me to slowly and gracefully rebuild this journey that I have found myself on, knowing that this is what it will take to one day be peacefully reunited with my beautiful daughter up above.