At the start, even before Hallie died, I always felt that we would never get to the place we are today. I assumed that life would be dark forevermore; that just getting out of bed in the mornings would be an impossible task. And for a time, it was. But now, 2 years after losing our daughter, we feel happiness again. In many ways, happiness feels like a betrayal of Hallie, and it's taken a long time to accept that life could once again be joyful despite her absence.
Our happiness is not complete; nothing about our lives will ever be complete without our eldest daughter - she is forever missing from us - and that will always, always hurt. But we are grateful to discover that our life as a family can and has been happy in ways we never thought possible. Everly's arrival is a huge part of that and we find tremendous joy in her every single day. She's almost 15 months old now and life hasn't been the same since the day she was born - I believe the sheer gratitude has kept us afloat. The recognition of how lucky we are to have been given a second, third chance with Everly has changed our entire outlook.
I watched a video online recently where a woman was describing what it feels like to miss someone that's passed away. She talked about how she once believed that when people described the person as constantly on their mind it was 'hyperbole', but went on to admit that she now understood, that the person takes up residence on your shoulder, always there. That's how I feel about Hallie. My mind drifts to her on an almost constant basis. I don't find it upsetting, I find her presence incredibly comforting. It's like she's never far away. Through the day, my thoughts of her are fleeting - they float in and out, little wonderments, little memories. At night, I relive the night we met her. I spend longer going over details, forcing myself to remember everything so I never lose those precious memories. They're all I have.
Of course, there are days that are harder. Anniversaries are difficult - I find Mother's Day to be the hardest in all honesty. I will always have a good old cry on that day as I feel the full weight of what is missing and what should be. Blowing out her candle on her birthday is hard too. Sometimes, a day arrives without announcement, rhyme or reason where I feel it all acutely. Just recently I woke at 3am and jumped out of bed to go through Hallie's medical records with an incessant need to know if she had been in pain as she died. I scoured the records to look for painkillers being administered to her, I sat up googling whether a 24 week old baby can feel pain and I couldn't focus on anything else. These moments come from nowhere, without warning, but they are just that - moments, and things go back to normal soon after. I suppose my life will always be a balance of sadness for what is missing and happiness for everything that I have.
There are moments where we shake our heads in disbelief at the unfair moments punctuating our lives now; standing in Hallmark trying to select a birthday card for our late daughter being one of them. We made an extra effort to celebrate Everly's first birthday even though we were in lockdown because it felt like a massive milestone, for all 3 of us. Christmas always has the potential to be difficult and we always make sure that Hallie isn't forgotten. Her little shelf has a tiny wooden Christmas Tree on it and lots of lights. As always, we're determined not to get bogged down with what should be and focus on what is and celebrate Christmas through Everly's eyes, which is bringing us a ton of joy this year already. Every year that passes I'm finding that I cry less tears of sadness and more tears of joy and that can only be evidence of moving in the right direction.
Some days I agonize over how we're going to one day explain Hallie to Everly. What's the right thing to do and when? It's a tough call. We want her to know of her sister, but how do you explain such things to a small child? While she's having her bedtime bottle and we're sat in the nursery with the lights down low, I sing Twinkle Twinkle to her and she does little hand actions with me. 'Up above the world so high, like your sister in the sky..." is our version. I guess we have time to figure all that out.
I used to watch Everly meet all her milestones with a tinge of sadness. But now, I confidently and happily cheer her on. My mindset has changed, it had to; I was torturing myself. Everly deserves parents who are living in every single moment for her only, parents who don't find a sad streak in every happy moment. I want Everly to feel safe and comfortable and content as part of our family - I never want her to feel that she's living in Hallie's shadow. We have created a life for the three of us that's full of fun, silliness and adventure where possible and we thank our lucky stars every single day that we have each other.
I guess my reasoning for this post is to provide hope that happiness can come after baby loss. And although, my personal experience is that the happiness came after Everly arrived, that's absolutely not to say that I wouldn't have found happiness in life again if we weren't blessed with a Rainbow baby. I can only write about what my experiences are, but I'm positive that it can be found regardless of whether another baby comes into your life or not. I've seen it with other women, other families. Time isn't a healer, but with every day that passes, the pain can ease a little. You will never forget, you will never get over it, but you can learn to live with it and find joy regardless. You can learn to co-exist with your loss and your pain and not have it be the over-riding factor in how you live your life. It's possible. You can laugh again, be silly again and it's possible to find a way to move into a new chapter of your life where it's okay to be happy again.
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