How I miss that beautiful face.
Today was one of those days when the sheer horror of what happened was front and center in my mind.
“My daughter is dead,” I would think. “My daughter is dead.”
The preceding is a sentence that, no matter how many times I say it, always sounds foreign and unreal to me. It’s like saying “I am the President of the United States” or “I have won an Olympic Gold medal.” It just doesn’t seem like something that could be part of my life. But it is.
I realize I have yet to write here about Heather and my pregnancy with Binky, but that is because it is hard to know how to express all of the feelings I am having. Don’t get me wrong…Heather and I love being parents, and we are both looking forward to having a child in the house again, but the more I think about having a child again the more it makes me wish that child was Madeline. Madeline is who I want to be playing with, kissing and hugging, teaching about the world…
This makes me wonder if I will be able to love this new baby as much as Madeline. I think I will, and have been told by friends that you love all of your children the same amount, but right now it seems impossible to love another child the way I love Maddie. And that scares me. The last thing I want is to become some psycho like Johnny Cash’s father who told him “the wrong boy died.” I can’t see myself saying something so hurtful, but raising this child is going to be far more complicated than it would be if Maddie had never passed.
A good example of how complicated things will be is trying to figure out what to tell this baby when he or she asks who Maddie is. This question will come long before he or she understands the concept of death, so what do you say? She is your sister but she doesn’t live with us? How is that not going to freak out a kid?
This isn’t the life I ever thought I’d have, but it IS real. Somehow I am going to have to find a way to live it the best I can.