Sweet memories

March 21, 2009

I'm staying at my dad's house in Chicago this weekend. The last time I stayed here was a year ago when my illness struck hard. The last time I slept in this room, in this bed, I was pregnant. Last night as I crawled under the covers and turned out the lights, I thought about Harper. I remembered how the last time I was here, she was with me, inside me. And I was very aware of her presence. She was all I thought about. I loved it.

Last night I turned in bed to sleep on my side. I remembered doing the same thing a year ago. I remembered moving pillows around to help keep me comfortable while I slept - one between my knees, one behind my back, one under my stomach. And as I lay there in bed, I felt this strong connection to Harper. And for one of the first times, I didn't feel guilty or like I had let her down when I thought about her. I just remembered what it was like, curling up in bed with her the last time I was here. I remembered feeling her move inside me. I was comforted. I felt like a real mother, snuggling in bed with her, protecting her.

There's so much more I could say right now. I've had thoughts swirling in my mind all day about her. But for now, I want to end my day thinking about curling up with her in bed. I've done a major thing today to remember her, but for now I want it to be something private that isn't shared with whoever may be out there reading. Maybe in a few days I'll write more. For today the memories have been sweet.