Yesterday Evaleigh took an usually early nap. By 4pm when her brother was on his 3rd nap she requested another one too. So up to her room we went with choclate milk in hand and her favorite toy for the day, one of my old cabbage patch dolls. She asked me to sit in the chair while she laid down and I held her hand through the bed railings. After a while she looked back up at me with a huge smile on her face and I knew nap number two was not going to happen.
So I just climbed straight in to that toddler bed with her. She was so excited to have me in there she scooted right over to share her blanket and pillow. She started talking a mile a minute. I love to hear the things that come out of her mouth. "How is your day going?" "Will you help me put my baby bunny to sleep?" "Do you see my hands?" And then feeding me imaginary apples.
We lay there in that tiny space all crammed up together, our bodies intertwined, chatting, giggling, and wiggling. For a moment I could remember what it felt like to have her little growing body inside of mine. Her movements now even feel familiar to how they were then.
About a week ago she and I were taking a shower together upstairs. My mind raced back to when I was pregant with her. I was still pretty early on, maybe 16 weeks or so. I was standing in that same shower proudly letting the water run over my very small pregnant belly and it was the first time I remember feeling a distinct connection with her. Then in that present moment to have her little two and a half year old body at my feet was such an interesting measure of time. It was like I blinked and there we were.
Lately I've read stories or come across women who have lost children. I can't fathom the pain of it. As I was curled up in the bed with Evaleigh yesterday I reveled in the bumps and knocks and hits my body would take. To loose a child, I imagine my body would feel like it does after you've been in the ocean all day, when you go to bed at night your body still holds the memory of those ocean waves rolling over you. I would crave those hits and jabs and hugs and tuggings and pullings. My body has grown accustomed to their's. I know my body would remember it.
Yesterday I was reminded that there is nothing like your first child. I loved laying there with just her. But there is also nothing like a second child. And someday there will be nothing like a third or any that come after.