Forever Changed

One year, one month, and sixteen days. 

That is how long it has been since I first and last felt my daughter grab my finger.  So very long. So very very long without her.  Medically, Mira was so very imperfect.  She had abnormalities in her kidneys, stomach, umbilical cord, heart, brain, lungs and more.  She had no ears.  Her eyes were not symmetrical.  But oh, my, was my little girl perfect anyway.  She managed to react to sound without her ears.  She had the softest skin I have ever felt.  Her grip on my finger felt so strong even though they said she was so weak.  Her cheeks were round and chubby.  Her clubbed feet were so adorable and tiny.  She filled those around her with so much love.

One year, one month, and sixteen days.

That is how long I have missed my girl.  That is how long I have spent learning how to breathe without my perfectly loved baby.  It’s a long to time to miss her, but it turns out not long enough to learn to get by without her.  I read all the infant loss books (I mean ALL of them), I know they say it take much longer than a year to be able to say you are healing.  But, it sometimes feels so damn overwhelming that over a year later, the pain still knocks me all the way down some nights. 

Sometimes I think I have truly accepted that I am not the same person I was before I lost Mira, but then I often find myself aching for the cheerful, silly, determined girl I used to be.  I have changed so much in the past year.  I feel so very old sometimes.  I am changed.  And everyone changes when they become a mother, but the changes you experience when you lose a child are even deeper, and so much less desired.

She remembers the change in her body

The blooming within

And how her heart seemed to flutter with the wind

Then one night as the days grew longer

That Indian summer

She brought love into the world

Cried and held me then

Forever changed,

Forever changed,

Nothing ever stays the same

Forever a child,

Forever changed

(Carrie Underwood)

I really can’t even begin to explain all the changes in myself.  The more concrete ones are easier to describe. Like, Joe is out with friends tonight. We rarely go out without each other, so I used to enjoy a night home to myself every once in a while, to do whatever I wanted.  Now it is just too quiet.  The time alone just makes me ache all the more for Mira.  I used to not be able to stand going even a few hours laying around watching TV or a movie, I had to be doing something.  Now I have trouble getting out of bed, every day, but especially on the weekends and struggle with little motivation.  Joe and I always talked about having two children and I used to imagine thinking about having a second child would be exciting, but instead the thoughts are terrifying.  I used to have lots of energy and multi-task all day, now I can barely focus on one task.   I used to be whole, now part of my heart lives in Heaven.

I am not sure I really have a point to this post, other than to say how much I miss Mira.  It is still hard to breathe through the pain of it some days.  I would give anything to be holding her now.  I love you Miriam Jordan Ferrara. I love you so much.