18 Months

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 11^th.

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