In the last couple of months we've studied Ancient India and Ancient China.  We have also talked about the religions of that area of the world, and how the are similar in certain beliefs and very different in others.  We read a story of a woman who asked the Buddah to bring back her only son from the dead, and he told her that he could if she could bring him a mustard seed from a house that had not known death.  She searched and searched but couldn't since every family knows death.  And so she buried her son, and was comforted by the fact that all people suffer not just her.  While I find the knowledge everyone suffers of no comfort AT ALL, because it just makes me feel worse for everyone, and it does nothing to lessen my grief.  Still, I asked the kids for their thoughts.  And of course Abigail came up in the conversation.  Rebecca is the child who randomly tells complete strangers like the checker at Walmart, that she has 3 sisters but one of them is dead" and she never says her name, but always refers to her as "that dead one, you know that died?"  She out of nowhere said, can you just stop talking about her it makes me sad.  And I told her no, I would not.  I asked her, how would she feel if I all of a sudden stopped talking to her, never said her name again, and never spoke about her.  She said she wouldn't feel very loved.  I then asked her do you know that I love my babies, Britt, and Ruth, and Kate, and her?  She said, of course I do.  I then said, do you think I love Abigail any less even if she is not here with me.  I told her I will NEVER stop talking about Abigail, and saying her name, because she is MY baby and I LOVE her.

Abigail should be a precocious handful of a 2 year old now, but she's not here.  That sting doesn't go away.  I wonder what kind of big sister she would be.  We have a friend with a child about the same age.  She adores Kate, and loves on her, always wanting to play with her and do things for her.  She is all the time asking for a little sibling, and wanting to have "Baby Kate" come home with her.  I wonder if Abigail would have been as loving and excited about having a little sister.  I think sometimes I am better at dealing with her loss.  I still struggle an awful lot with depression and anxiety.  It complicates everything in my life.  This time of year, the anniversary of taking a pregnancy test is difficult.  The weeks leading up to her birth are hard.  The month of December leading up to her due date is hard.  Not being able to see her or do things together that's hard.  I still have a lot of enjoyment in our days all year long.  I can have a ton of fun at the ball field talking with friends, cheering on the kids, and wish I could see her interact with her siblings and friends, and be sad that I'll never see her bouncing around in a little t-ball uniform, digging in the dirt and tackling other kids for a ball.  Joy and grief, it exists together, just like the memories in the movie inside out are both blue and yellow, all interconnected.

2-6, Cemetery in the rain.

2-6, Rainbow on the way home.