Reminders

Facebook memories.  Most days I get a little reminder and see a fun note from an old friend, a picture of Andrew and I traveling, a video of the boys first walking.  Most of the time, it fills my heart, reminds me of how blessed we are.  But some days, it feels like I've been hit in the face with a brick.  I never choose to look at the memories in the weeks following Reagan's birth.  I know better than to look back and read the condolences, to see verses meant at comforting the gut retching pain, or to see my own words of despair.  It's been years, but it sure isn't any easier, and I still have to protect my heart.  But August?  August is one of my favorite memory months - with the boys in the NICU but growing stronger, experiencing so many firsts.  First time wearing clothes, first time breathing without tubes, first time taking a bottle, first time holding them both together without all the wires and tubes.  They still had a ways to come before they could come home with us, but these NICU days were incredible at showing us just how strong our little preemies were and just how miraculous life was in general.  So much we take for granted.

So today, I was completely caught off guard to see a memory of Reagan, our pregnancy announcement.  I was in that "safe zone."  I'd had 3 ultrasounds and knew she was growing well.  We'd heard the heartbeat, and I was moving into my maternity clothes.  How many years will go by before I stop feeling like my world is crashing down around me?  Does it ever?  Probably not...

Moving has been hard for many reasons.  To the outside world, I look like a mother who has her hands full.  Who has *that kid* who is screaming uncontrollably while throwing a crumbled cookie in Publix while the other one runs and grabs the avocados and starts dropping them on the floor while also wearing a crying baby.  I get stares and looks, though I've only ever had 1 person dumb enough to comment to me about where babies come from (if he only knew...).  Add to in the Florida humidity and a constant glistening of sweat, and I have all appearances of being an extremely fertile mother, with more than she can handle.  But the thing no one can see is how much I long for my first baby, how incomplete our family feels.  That I should also have a little girl about to turn 4, adding to the craziness. I hate that she doesn't exist here.  She still felt such a part of our lives in Charlotte - maybe because our friends knew us while I was pregnant with her and were praying for us while she was being born?  Maybe because we had just always imagined her running down the streets of our neighborhood, playing with the other little girls, swimming in the pool and having park dates. I never had those moments, those memories or hopes, in our new town.  And really, that's all we get with Reagan.  Memories and hopes, until we reach heaven.  And then I know (in my head) that it's all worth it, but my heart just can't seem to feel that some days.  I miss my Rea Rea, so much.