The last couple of weeks have been harder. There’s no particular reason for it to be harder. It’s not like the calendar lined up on specific dates, or that we actually took care of going through Samantha’s clothes (a dear friend is going to make a quilt for us from them, we just need to send them to her). Nothing out of the ordinary made me miss her more. And yet here I am, missing her. I offered to watch one of the babies in the infant room for a few minutes the other day. It was pouring down rain outside and the mom was going to take the baby out into it to the car, so I said I’d watch her by the door so mom could pull her car under the overhang to load the baby. Two seconds after she went outside, I sat there looking at this tiny little girl and missed my daughter so much. No, she didn’t look like Samantha. Her expressions didn’t even remind me of Samantha. But it was how unique her facial movements were that made me miss my daughter, made me miss being the mom who knows what those expressions mean. I never understood those things until I had my baby girl. Each infant has their own personality, their own way of expressing themselves. Each cry is unique. From the moment we are conceived, we are special, individual. Yes, I knew that as a fact. But now I KNOW it from experience. And it makes me miss my daughter and miss being a mom. Yes, I’m always a mom, but it’s not the same when you aren’t raising your children, caring for them every day. Some days I just ache to hold her in my arms again. I still haven’t let myself hold a baby, at least none other than my 2-year-old niece. The baby I watched the other day was in her carseat already. Oh, to feel the warmth and weight of my daughter on my chest, to kiss the top of her head and put my finger into her hand – those are the moments I miss more than anything.
I wrote up our story this week, Samantha’s story. This time it was for the Group B Strep Association, because the head of it is speaking at a vaccination conference in July and wants stories and pictures. So this writing of our story was different than the stuff I’ve written in the past. So much of this journey for us is about faith, and that’s the perspective I write from. But the piece I wrote this week was based in our medical experiences, and my opinions about vaccines and pregnancy before and after our experience.
Meanwhile, I still know God is with us. I still trust in Him. I know He is good, and He desires good for us. I know He holds my children in the palm of His hand, just like He holds me. I can’t answer WHY this happened to us. My sister posted the lyrics to Mercy Me’s song “The Hurt and the Healer,” which is one of my new favorites. It starts with the question “Why” but then never tries to answer it. I don’t try to answer it either. Because I know that God is God and my human mind can’t begin to comprehend all that He has done and is doing and will do. I just know that in the midst of the worst sorrow possible, God is still with me and keeps me safe.