The Cemetary

Last weekend was a rare opportunity for AJ and I to do whatever we wanted for the whole weekend...no prior commitments, no call, no rounds, no early morning running groups beckoning. We recieved notice from the cemetary that Elise's memorial had been installed and made plans to visit. I hadn't been there in months...probably since soon after she died; AJ had gone once by himself.

It was good. The plaque was perfect and the setting serene...a beautiful winter day, probably nearly 50 degress with sun. We sat on the grass near her grave back to back and cried and chatted and wondered. AJ's thoughts were existential, "Why did this happen to her (us)?" while mine were more mundane, "I wonder what she would be like, cranky, happy, difficult, easy." Neither of us had any answers, but it was good to talk aloud.

And then I watched as AJ cleaned the memorial with a towel and water from the car. He took such care to trace the granite indentations and remove the traces of dirt that had lodged at the edges of the stone. I watched with such sadness as the surgeon's hands, so accustomed to the delciate work of cutting tissue and sewing stitches, expertly, lovingly cleaned our daughter's gravestone.

It was really all we could do for her and, as is so characteristic of my husband, he put his energies into doing it right.

I thought about her earthly body, morbid I know, but I couldn't help it...but I also thought about her heavenly body and kept telling myself that she is the lucky one. She's the one with Jesus in the place where we all want to be. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? Too simple? But it's what I have, what I am trying, so hard, to believe.

All The Prayers Our Mouths Have Made

Four months ago Elise was alive. Even more than the day she was born and the day she died, this time period each month, between the 3rd and the 7th, has been a time of great reflection for me. It's not disintegrating into tears or not wanting to get out of bed as it was in the beginning, but I look at her pictures a little longer and think about what it would like to be a mom to her on Earth. Our nursery is still as it was before she was born, everything in it's place. It's a wonderful room, a quiet, clean and warm place and I'm trying not to feel like a weirdo for still wanting it all put together. But, it doesn't give me pain to go there. Rocky likes the soft comforter and I like the peace. It's her room and it makes me sad and it makes me happy but overall I think it's a good place for us to see everyday as we walk to our office. To recognize all that we've lost, to remember it IS real, that WAS us and it's gone but that's our life. That's the path we are supposed to walk.

The nursery makes me want to be a mom to another baby on Earth, too. Sure, those desires cause me some guilt since my energies are not on Elise. She is amazing, our daughter, but as important as those 4 days are to us, they don't go very far when I think of all the love we want to give and the experiences we long to have. I think she would be OK with it.

I have been trying to talk more with God and it's amazing how much I have to say. When I started to make these conversations less formal and more of a chit chat, the words just kept coming. There is so much to pray for, so many people and so much pain...and so much hope. I am trying to believe that these conversations with God make a difference in the world, not just a difference in my head. I am trying to believe that, aside from our free will and human-ness, he intervenes for or acts upon us and changes us. I don't like thinking that my words dissapate as they leave my mouth and that is their end...I feel like I'm too smart to believe in something like that. At least, I hope I am.