Missing Child

I've realized over the past couple of weeks that I have really been longing for Eveyn. I'm not sure if it's because Ella has reached an age where her personality is really starting to show up which makes me wonder and think about what Eveyn would be like, or if I'm just going through one of those phases that will come and go for the rest of my life just as a natural part of grieving.

Either way, I find myself thinking about her more than usual which just intensifies the strange feeling that I've had ever since we left the hospital without her - that one of my kids is missing. On a pretty regular basis, I have the nagging feeling that I've forgotten a kid at the house, or at the store when I leave. Even after I look in the backseat and see Elijah and Ella, both car seats full, I double and triple check because I can't shake the feeling that one of them is missing. And I always come to the conclusion that it's Eveyn that's not there.

Sometimes that realization hits me pretty hard - I have a child that is not with me, I have no choice in the matter, and I can do nothing to change it. Amazing. As a mom, that natural instinct to be able to take care of your child is a very helpless feeling not to be able to fulfill. Even though I know that Eveyn is in perfect peace and I have absolutely nothing to worry about, that need to be a physical presence in her life still strikes me at times.

These thoughts always take my mind back to two moments that I'll never forget. The first of those times occurred in the hospital about 5 hours after Eveyn was born. After family visits, nurse and doctor visits, private time for just Gavin and me, and an insufficient bath for Eveyn, the nurse came back in the room and asked if we were ready. How do you ever say that you are "ready" to never see your child again? I knew when I gave her to the nurse, I would never see, feel, or smell her little body again. Somehow God gave me the strength to be able to hand Eveyn over.

The second moment occurred eight days later when Eveyn was buried. When the service was over, I could have stayed by her side the rest of the day and into the night. Even now, when I hear a particular song on Elijah's bedtime CD, I always picture myself sitting with her through the night in the cemetery. I think the only thing that allowed me to leave was the fact that I knew we had a chapel full of people waiting for us for the rest of the service. But again, I found myself asking how do I say that I'm ready to leave? How in the world do I walk away from my little baby being left all by herself out there? But again, God gave me the strength and the ability.

Because of this same feeling, I am torn every time I think about going to the cemetery to spend some time. While I know only her physical body is there, it's just the closest I can get to her. I think this feeling will fade over time, but sometimes I just have an overwhelming need as her mom to be physically close to her. But the struggle I have in doing that is the leaving. I hate leaving her again and again - so I just usually don't go and remind myself that going to the cemetery does nothing for Eveyn. It brings her no comfort or peace and nothing I do or don't do will have any effect on her. She is perfect.

What amazes me is that I'm coming to the realization that I'll probably be processing this over and over and over for years and years to come. It also amazes me that I know all of the logical steps of Eveyn's life-death-life, but the imperfect, emotional, physical part of me will struggle with this loss for the rest of my life.

So I have come to the conclusion that, at least for a while, I will always feel that I have a child that has been left behind somewhere. And at least for a while, I will think that I see a little dark-haired kid Eveyn's age running through the house only to realize nothing is there. But probably as long as I'm alive I will see pictures of my family as incomplete and I will long to see, feel and smell Eveyn again someday.