So much in a nod

June 1, 2010

This morning as he was heading out the door, Jeremy gave me a mix CD he had compiled this weekend of songs about and for Harper. I put it in to listen to on my way to work, but I couldn't listen to all of it. Especially the song that he wrote that has her heartbeat in it. I had to skip that one. I remembered a time when she was still with me, when the song was new, I listened to it for hours on repeat.

The man I was sitting next to at a training today asked me if I had kids. "None living," I said. "Oh. You lost a child?" he asked. I told him I had. He said, "Me too." He told me he had a child who only lived for three days. He must have been 60 years old. He went on to say, "Oh and you were probably going along having a good day and I had to ask you that question." I smiled and reassured him that it hadn't ruined my day. It was so nice to hear someone understand how that tiny little question could send one reeling (and had done so in the past to me). "It's just a part of life for me now. Something that will always be with me." He nodded in agreement.

When I think about Harper and the love I have for her, I always end up thinking about Jeremy and the blessing he is in my life. I think about how sharing her has brought us closer to each other. And then I sometimes think about how long we will be together, and, ultimately I end up thinking about what I will do when I lose him one day (meaning when one of us dies). Isn't that horrible? But I can't help it. I get really angry sometimes when I think about how we will spend our lives together as partners only to be separated by death in the end. It just isn't fair and it doesn't make much sense to me. And then this is where I do a little self talk: Okay Abby, let's try the glass is half full approach shall we? How lucky are you that you have him to share your life with now? Enjoy what you have now.

Oh, and tonight I'm tired and not feeling well. Would that I could drift off to sleep and my little girl would come and visit me in my dreams.