Today is one of those days where I'm about to throw a party - like a great big pity party and ya'll are invited!
Today is March 3rd. That day is forever etched on my heart as one of the most devastating days of my life. Three years ago today, our little Scarlett Victoria was born. I have replayed that day over in my mind a zillion times today. To say I have been distracted is certainly an understatement.
But trying to stop my mind from visiting that hospital room, from remembering her tiny fingernails, from remembering her teeny outfit has been futile.
So, there is a cake - but not a Happy Birthday cake. And there will be balloons - but not for a party. And there are baby girl dresses - not hanging in a closet for party time but rather folded in a memory box. And there is wonder - not the "I wonder what she will become" but
rather the "I wonder who she could have been".
I wonder all the time.
And so today my broken and healing heart has struggled with the bruises this day always brings. But I promised myself when she was born that I would celebrate her. And we do. Each and every year.
Balloons for a balloon launch with the kids where we all write a message to the missing sister. We release them and watch until they are out of sight. Come in and have some cake.
And not just any cake. The best cake ever. I make the yearly trek to my favorite bakery over 45 minutes away and buy her the most beautiful cake they have. I don't have a lot that I can do for this precious little soul that owns a piece of my heart. But I can buy her a cake.
So each year I make the trip and reflect and remember.
So Greyson and I set out this afternoon for her cake. We go in this quaint little bakery, share a scrumptious cookie, and take FOREVER to pick out her cake. Finally decide on the tiny little white round cake with delicate orange and red fondant butterflies that look as if they are about to take flight. A yellow cake with white chocolate mousse filling. And decorated with tiny orange and red polka dots. And had them write her name - Scarlett. I love seeing that written out. The bakers never know that the little girl whose name they are writing won't be having any of her cake. I always wonder what little girl they imagine as they take the time to carefully spell out her name in a billowy cursive.
Very pleased with this years' selection we head home. Placed an order for some matching red, orange and white balloons. But the bakery was so far away - almost a 2hr round trip- and I spent too long picking it out that we had to go straight to the school to pick up the 3 big boys. So, poor little Greyson's nap got way postponed as we waited for the boys in the car circle. We picked them up and finally head home.
The boys all run in the house and I set the white cake box on the table to run Greyson up for his way late nap. And here is where my distracted self makes a grave error. I KNOW how much Braden loves sweets - cakes, donuts, cookies. He has seen way too many white boxes grace our counters with goodies in them! I come down from laying Greyson down for his nap to a cake box not where I left it. The sides of the box are torn since the tape wouldn't allow for just a peek.
My heart just sank.
I opened that box knowing what I would find inside and just hoping that somehow the cake would still be as I bought it. Thinking the WHOLE time "I know better than this" - "I should have known he'd be tempted to take a look if not a taste" - "Damn it - I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER!"
But the tape they put on did its job.
And Braden did his.
The cake that was oh-so-much-more-than-just-a cake was completely ruined. It had been flipped over several times from the looks of it - I'm sure as Braden was looking for any way in.
And I just burst into tears.
Really.
Over a cake.
But those tears were for the little girl who should have been.
And they were for me... because I miss being the mama to that little girl.
And they were for the little boy who could not understand how important that cake was.
And they were for me...
because I couldn't be mad at that little boy.
Today is a hard day.
There have been moments where being the mom of a child that was stillborn have collided with moments of being a mom of a child with a disability.
And those moments have been more than I could handle.
