My Little Girl

This girl.

I’m posting about loss again—but also life. After a miscarriage, fear does not leave. Fear lived in my soul so deeply that I almost didn’t want to try again. Fear enveloped me in the first 12 weeks. It suppressed excitement for the next 28 weeks, and until the very moment Aria took a breath, I was terrified to lose her. Fear then ate at my being the second week when we were in the hospital together. I had lived through pain, but fear told me there could be something worse ahead. Fear hovered next to me every night until Aria was one, making me think I was not going to be able to keep her.

This girl. She is my JOY. She is my heart. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for her. We sat together tonight, watching her brother run in the field. She looked up at me with her brown eyes and smiled. I think of her sibling tonight, and I have unanswered questions. But I can honestly say that I have given this girl every ounce of love I had for that baby—and for her. We’re in the here and now, and fear has been pushed into the shadows.

“For this child, I have prayed.”