A million times I’ve wanted to write something about this, and a million times I’ve found a brick wall in my head and around my heart. This will probably be the one and only time I do write about it because nothing I could ever type down could possibly fill the space in my heart, and to be honest, I don’t want it to. That part of me went with whom it belonged. But it is a piece of our story, no matter the ache in my chest that it may bring, and it belongs here is as much as any other member of my entire family does. There are no details I’m willing to share, just this:
Last night, on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, Lily and I gathered amongst many others and released a balloon for the baby we lost in May. Inside the balloon were notes from the both of us, and when that balloon popped, wherever that may have been, those notes fell to the earth and eventually, those notes will turn into wild flowers. Thirty minutes after our balloons took flight, the rain came, and I know that it came to help those seeds get settled into the ground.
Never will I look at a wildflower the same again.