Easter Without Hazel

BitterSweet.

Bitter: Because she's not here to celebrate with us.
Sweet: Because someday I know she will be.

Her place at the table

Ruby misses her little sister

My five little bunnies

Someday we'll come to this exact spot and have our Hazel back.  Does she see us missing her?

Sunday Will Come

Today is Good Friday. I didn't realize this last night, when I was hitting another low as I continue to grieve my daughter's death. But today I made this connection between the bitterness I experienced last night and the signficance of today being Good Friday. A fellow grieving mother sent me this video today. It's a good reminder for all of us. No matter how black our Fridays are, Sunday will come. Beautiful words don't erase all the pain, but they help dull it.

Flashback

One of my sorrows at Hazel's passing is the fact that the kids will never get to see their baby sister wrapped up in the blanket that they worked so hard to help me make.

Below I am copying a post from my homeschooling blog about the day we started working on Hazel's blanket.

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From 11-10-2013

Baby #5 will be joining us in just 11 weeks or so.  The kids are very excited.  We've done a lot of talking about Baby Hazel and how she'll fit into our hearts and our home.

I thought that one good way of involving the kids in the preparation for her arrival would be to have them help me make a blanket for her.  So I chose to do a patchwork blanket this time around, allowing the kids to help me piece the squares together.

They helped pick the fabric and yarn, they helped me wash the squares and then iron them. They chose the pattern for the blocks (I bought them pre-cut to save some time and effort) and then they helped sew them together!

Confession: Some of their sewing made for very uneven rows. I had to take a few of them apart and redo them on the machine. But I'm sure Hazel will still feel their love when she's wrapped up in it!

I'll post a final picture when it's done.  Give me a few weeks!

What I miss most today

I miss Hazel every day.  Every minute of every day.  When I am doing laundry I think, "I should be washing onsies and burp rags too."    When I load the kids in the car I think, "I should be strapping Hazel into her car seat."  When we are at church I think, "Hazel should be draped on my shoulder during this prayer, or I should be pacing the hallway with her until she settles down."  When I see parents pushing strollers I think, "I should be toting Hazel's stroller in the back of the van too."  When I'm at Costco I think, "I should be complaining about how little room there is for the toilet paper with Hazel's car seat in the cart."  When we go to the park I think, "I should be wearing my baby sling and supporting Hazel's head with one hand while I push Ruby on the swing iwth the other."  But instead I push Ruby with both hands.  When it's bed time I think, "I should be smelling freshly washed baby hair now and rubbing chubby legs with lavender lotion." When the kids are in bed and I take a minute to watch the news by  myself I think, "This would be my favorite time of day to snuggle with Hazel and nurse her on the quiet couch."

There are so many should haves, could haves...but today, especially, there is one big "should" that isn't happening.  She's eight weeks old today.  I should be looking into my baby Hazel's eyes and sharing one of her first smiles about now.  But I'm not.  I have to just imagine it.  I have to try to feel the weight of her silky head on my arm, her little warm body nestled into her blanket, eyes shining at me with that big gummy grin on her tiny pink lips.

Two months.  It feels like a life time.  I wish I could fast forward to the day when I can be with her again.  Two months too long without my baby girl.