As I awake on this sun filled Sunday, I am quickly reminded of todays tasks: 1 kids hockey game, 1 kids birthday party, 3 kids to get breakfast, 3 animals as well, and hopefully a run before I go to work. As I glance out the window and listen to the birds of spring happily chirping. I do, what we all do, after I am up, teeth brushed, kids hugged and coffee brewing, open my browser and am quickly reminded it is International Bereaved Mothers day. As my feed fills with gentle memes and love for us. I decide, for the first time in a long time to open her box.
My treasures; memories of her.
The first thing I see as I open the box is the heart box the hospital gave us with things of her beside her pink blanket. The first I see as I open its lid is her cremation certificate and a photo of her on day 2 of her short life.
As I gently spread out the contents of the heart box, I am confronted with the very strings that pull hard at my heart. A lock of her gloriously soft black hair, the imprints of her beautiful tiny hands and feet. Her tiny stained toques, other pictures, hospital bracelets and soothers.
Under her pink blanket is her things, a December candle I bought for her, a babies first teddy, a gift from a friend, her tiny little pajamas and jacket. Things I cannot give away.
As my other kids call me, they need help with socks and milk and other simple problems, I tightly fold the contents away, close the box that holds a piece of my heart and put away her treasure.
I wish all bereaved mothers a gentle day to remember their babies and children lost today and everyday.
Thanks for reading,