One Day at a Time

On October 27th at just past 11:00 p.m., my five year old daughter died.  Her name was Tabitha.

That day was eight years, three months and five days after my four year old daughter died of the same genetic condition, Spinal Muscular Atrophy.  Her name was Taleah.

I remember, after Taleah died, thinking I could never be whole again, could never come out of the darkness after her death.  But I did.  Sometimes it felt like I was clawing my way out inch by inch only to be sucked back in by the most trivial of memories, but day by day, hour by hour things got better.  I would say it took a solid two years to be "okay" again, but eventually it happened.

I cling to the thought that while I am so engulfed in the missing of my Tabitha, that I was just as engulfed by the missing of my Taleah and yet eventually there was peace and joy and a sweet yearning that replaced the sucking, swirling, bone-deep grief that initially consumed me. 

When Taleah flew, Ethan was ten, Natalie was seven and Colin was a 10 month old baby.  Colin saved me, in a way.  As a baby, he didn't care that we were grieving, he paid no attention to whether we were having a good day or bad, he just wanted to be fed and changed and loved.  He laughed when he was happy and practically demand we laugh along.  He needed me to be his mother and so I did and in doing so he created a lifeline that I could cling to.

Our family has grown by leaps and bounds since then.  Ethan is an 18 year old college student, Natalie is almost 15, Colin 9.  We also have Jaxon who is 7. In 2006 I traveled to Zambia to bring Mariah, now 6 and Evan now 8 to our family.  Because we felt there was still room in our hearts and home, we became foster parents and now J who is 15, M who is 7 and S who is 7 months old are loved additions to our family.  Just like Colin offered a lifeline when Taleah died, S offers the same this time around.  He claps and giggles and squeals and loves with reckless abandon.

I am glad he is here to pull me up because right now the pain is wild and raw and nearly unbearable.