Tonight is the eve of the day that Addison would have turned
18 months. Normally people don’t celebrate their half birthdays or even think
twice about that day. But for me, tomorrow has been etched in my mind for a
long time. And I wanted to write this now so that I did not take away from
those who will be remembering and mourning September 11th.
18 months for a baby means a lot of things. And I might have
some of the things that I think it means wrong, but please don’t correct me. That
would only devalue the little I do know of motherhood. 18 months to me is the change between baby
and toddler. All of the fun firsts should have already been accomplished. These
are the things we didn’t get to do with Addison. First smile. First laugh. First
word. First tooth. First food. First tummy time. First holding her head up.
First roll over. First sit up. First crawl. First stand. First walk. First first
first first. Instead it has been never smile. Never Laugh. Never talk. Never
teeth. Never eat. Never progress. She is still stuck in my mind as a beautiful
3-day old, dead baby.
And along with her firsts were supposed to come ours. But
they never did. One day they will, but
they will hurt. We thought Addison would have had a younger sibling by now, or
at least one on the way. But she doesn’t.
In our church, 18 months in the age when babies start going
to Sunday School or Primary. At her age, she would have been in the nursery,
but that is part of Primary none the less. Well, this past Sunday I accepted a
calling to be a Primary teacher. The
decision to accept did not come easily. So this coming Sunday is the first day
Addison should have gone to Primary, but I will go instead.
1 year ago from tomorrow is also when I chose to tell
Addison’s story in a public way. About 70 people came and listened to the
details of our daughter’s short life. Those people heard me and cried with
me. I thanked those who attended by
giving them a purple flower pin to represent their knowledge of Addison’s life
but also to wear when they thought of her. Occasionally I still see and Addison
pin here or there, but it is hardly the norm. I’d hate to ask that Addison pins
be worn this Sunday, only to be disappointed, but it would help to know that
others know what day it is. And perhaps if you do where your Addison pin, and
someone asks you what it is for, you can tell them about our sweet Addison.
It’s not very often
that I get to tell her full story anymore. Sure I tell people in about 30
seconds what happened, but no one has sat down with me and really listened in
quite some time. I guess I don’t really feel the need to rephrase it through
words, I think what I miss is just people caring enough to ask.
As a last note, I’d like to share my favorite picture of
Addison. I haven’t shared this picture before on social media. I guess most people
also probably assume that the other picture that is on my blog is my favorite,
but that was just the prettiest of the edited ones available for the funeral.
So anyone, this one is my favorite. Can you see why?
With Love,
Addison’s Mommy
