I just cry.  And sometimes when the words are too big, too full, or too painful… I cry then too.  Life is such a fragile thing.  I know my mom lost a little baby between my older sister and me.  The baby was old enough that they knew he was a boy but he was too small and fragile to survive.  I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is to a tragedy like that.  How can you properly grieve for the child that didn’t get to be?  My mom has never talked about it, with me.  As far as I know, I don’t think she’s ever mentioned it to anyone. And I think that is the worst part of the tragedy.  It was something so personal and so painful that no one got to share in her pain.  No one but her really knew him or felt him.  I don’t know the date this tragedy occurred.  I only know that it was followed soon after, by a pregnancy that resulted in me.

A friend of mine is going through this right now.  At 19 weeks her water broke spontaneously.  Its so sickeningly unfair.  I am too far away to do anything and its so frustrating.  Last night I made two tiny quilts because I didn’t know the gender.  I was hoping against all odds that I could get them to her in time, that she could wrap her baby in something made out of love, just for that moment, for that baby.  Time is so cruel and distended when you don’t want it to be.  And sometimes it just slips through your fingers.  I found out that Amelia Jayne was born this morning, still.  I know that the hospital usually has hand-made things for babies that are born too young.  I just wish that I could have done something to signify the emotions I feel.  That she’s not alone, that its horribly unfair, that her baby has the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.  Where I am, there is nothing I can do but pray.

Life is a precious, precious thing.  Don’t ever forget that.