The house felt strangely inhabited tonight. Reid wanted to "watch Rufie Roo" before bed. We probably have 2,000 photos of her, many plastered around the house, on our phones and most anywhere that we are. Reid knows her pictures, her name and that she is his sister. We speak of her, we include her in all that we do and how we live. Tonight when he asked to watch her, my heart leapt with fear and excitement. I have not watched her videos (from the video camera) for near three and a half years and before that only once, days after coming home without her. My sister and I sat on the couch in the living room and watched Ruthie Lou and cried, it was hard and it was sacred. It was so necessary. But, I haven't had the courage to watch them since.
I often picture Ruthie Lou in our daily life and that thought is full of so many emotions: sadness, emptiness, love, pride and so much loss. I feel my own loss but I also feel it for Chris and even for Reid, for the sister he'll never know. I worry about him loving her at all, and then I worry that he'll love her so much that it will cause him his own grief. But mostly, I feel so sad that he doesn't get that playmate that other kids get in a sibling. He has a sister but he'll never actually get that sister.
So tonight we snuggled on the couch, we had milk and loved watching Ruthie Lou. Reid giggled and squealed to see his mama and dad on screen and he asked questions about what he saw. We stayed up past his bedtime and we laughed and I cried and my heart was full, having both my babies in one room for almost a minute. It was a sacred moment. I kissed Reid all over his face and he even let me do it without saying, "eww". His eyes were near closed before his head hit the pillow and although I still feel like crying, I think I'll revel in the feeling of love instead.
Not a day goes by- and not many moments without missing my sweet girl. I'll miss her always.
I am mama of three beautiful babes; two sons whom I have the privilege of raising and my daughter who lived for 33 sacred days.