Thanksgiving Reflection

Today, like so many others recently, started quietly. Uneventfully. Sweetly. Three of us snuggled on the couch together, wrapped up in two heavy quilts. On one side, I had Eloise, tucked comfortably into the nook of my elbow, giggling every so often as she watched her daily dose of cartoons. Dorey was cuddled on my other side, her head resting trustingly on my knee.  As we do many mornings, Ellie and I sang a few Daniel Tiger songs, maybe even did the “hot dog dance,” as we munched our breakfast.  I scratched Dorey behind the ears as she snoozed. I  drank my coffee, enjoyed the calm, and started mentally planning our day. But this morning I realized it. We have a lot to be thankful for.  Something that isn’t all that obvious to us this year.

The holidays are making us recoil. The normal happiness and lightheartedness that accompany warm Thanksgiving festivities and then Christmas carols and decorations, childlike anticipation, eludes us.  Instead, Mike and I are constantly drawn back to thinking about “what we should be doing at this time,” whether it’s visiting Hannah in the NICU and getting ready for her homecoming…or, more often, cuddling a perfectly healthy, beautiful, happy two month old baby girl who never had any life-threatening birth defects in the first place. It’s a world where everything went normally. The way it should have been. Such a dangerous road to travel down. It’s hard to claw our way back once we go there.

It’s just not fair

We are muscling through for Eloise. For each other.  There are moments of peace and moments of sadness every single day. I am so very anxious for the year to be over. Hoping against hope that 2015 will bring us the fresh start and sense of relief that we so desperately need in order to find ourselves and our way again.

It is easy for us to lose sight of the blessings that have been bestowed on us this year in the wake of losing our baby girl. They are undoubtedly overshadowed. But they are there. In Eloise’s beautiful, joyful laugh. In Dorey’s big, brown eyes. I am thankful that, despite everything, Mike makes me feel safe. That we can face absolutely anything together. We are both thankful for the unfailing support of my family. For their health. For friendships that have blown us away by their kindness and strength. For the clients who are so much more than just clients who have supported me, come back to me and kept JSP alive and well through all of my personal turmoil.

We are thankful for the time that we did have with Hannah. For the 8 months when she heard our voices, listened to the stories that we read to her sister, to the songs we sang together. We are grateful that she experienced the beach, my favorite place, with us. I am eternally thankful that she never had to suffer. That she’s safe, unencumbered and well taken care of now.

Last but not least…I am thankful for this outlet. It’s hard to talk through these emotions. Writing is easier. Thank you, friends, for letting me write honestly. For reading, even though the words are hard to see. For sticking with us as we stumble through this. For letting us know you are there.

Best wishes to you all for a healthy, happy, and safe holiday next week.