Love, love, loves...

Years ago I used to do a post where I would write down what my girls loved at the time, to remember it when they're grown.  I would call it their "stats" or their "love, love, loves".  I decided that it would be a really good idea to start doing that again.

I don't know if it's Josie's being an older kid now, or we just have more girls so there's so much more going on, or I am *ahem* older...  Days are flying by so quickly.  I don't want to miss anything or forget anything.  My memories of Marie are my most prized treasure, and part of my having them is how well I documented them as they happened.  I want to store up these treasures...

Eva love, love, loves...
Sweet potatoes.
Her sock monkey.
Pacifiers.
Bath time.
Any time that her sisters will slow down and pay attention to her.
Graham crackers.
Her God-mother.  (after Daddy and I; there is something very special about their little bond)
On the flip side, Eva really hates tummy time still.  It's sort of awful but she makes this face and scrunches up her tiny nose and rolls over.  Luke and I call it her "F-U tummy time" face.

Sarah love, love, loves...
Her stuffed animals.  All 10 or so of them that all live on her tiny toddler bed.
Quesadillas.
Playing outside with her dog.
Going on bike rides.
Playing with bubbles.
Playing on my smart phone.
Going to the farm.
On the flip side... Sarah kind of is anti-nap right now.  It is hard for me as a Mama to let go of that afternoon nap.  

Josie love, love, loves...
Kelly Clarkson.
Tacos.
Hanging out with her Dad.
Her best friend.
Reading.  She goes through a book in a single day.  It is amazing.
Dance, she is still taking Jazz and is really good at it.
Piano.  She does piano lessons with her Aunt Gail once a week.  To see her begin to read music (something I cannot do) is really cool.
On the flip... Josie does not like chores and is a real stinker about doing anything "extra".  I am told it comes with her age.  I am dreading her becoming a teenager.

All in all, life is good but busy.  There is a huge hole in our days that is Marie shaped, but we have learned how to cope.  It has not come easily.  There have been a lot of hard times, and we have been blessed with a really wonderful social worker who has walked with us since before Marie was called home.  With out his guidance it would have been so much harder. 

It is amazing how big these little girls are getting...

Silence...

I have not had much to say for a long time.  In honesty, I thought about letting this go.  See, I view this as the story of Marie's life... and she's gone now.  I don't know what to say, and my thoughts and feelings are so private.  Where I am, does anyone really want to know what that's like?

The thirty-something mother of four, trying to get by raising her babies, trying to raise them well, with faith.  Does anyone want to hear me talk about the breath stealing pain that still exists sometimes even now, two and a half years after my Little Mama flew home?  The guilt that comes with coming to joy again after the valley of sorrow.  The irrational "how can we be okay without her", "are we really okay", "why do things have to change", "how can things not change", "I am changed but I want to be the same".  Does anyone really need to read the jumbled thoughts of a grieving mother that is far enough out from her tragedy that it feels like the worlds forgotten?  Does anyone really need to hear me? 

But then, I am still surprised that anyone reads here at all.  This is just my space...  And these words are my therapy. 

I am joyful, but guarded.  I am so blessed, but it's a hard story to tell.  A lot of what I'm thinking now I struggle to get to the page...  Because this is a public forum.  And maybe I don't want everyone to know what I'm really thinking.  Because sometimes it is not very nice.  And sometimes it's just really boring.

I don't want to let this go though...  It's still the journey, but our struggles are different.  Instead of being the mother of a child with a terrible illness and helping her to live that well; I am the mother of three little girls whose sister is gone.  And I am a mother trying to help myself and them carry on, being as healthy as possible.  Answering hard questions, comforting tiny souls that didn't know their sister but grieve anyway.  It is a much different place and I am a much different me.  My husband is a different man, and we are a different family.  And that has to be okay...  And if what I have to say is not very nice, or it is really boring, or it makes no sense that is okay.  Because it's more for me than anything and I think I'm saner when I let go of the words...