I find myself counting – everything. I’m constantly looking for some sign from God that they’re with me. That they’re ok. Looking for something to carry with me for comfort each day. My glimmer of hope and thanksgiving in the midst of sadness. It’s a balancing act every single day.
We’ve been searching for a burial location for the babies for months now. We think we’ve found a place in a local cemetery that I grew up visiting. My great-grandma and grandma are both buried there. Memorial day always meant baby ducks and geese to visit. Grandma Lilly always made sure that I had some bread to feed them. What a joyful thing to watch in a place that revolves around such loss.
We’ve visited here several times this spring and my daughter loves the duck ponds. And wouldn’t you know as I was uploading this image I counted – five little babies. This is where my head goes every day. Two brown and three yellow. Maybe that means that my miscarriage and ectopic losses were a boy and a girl. That would total two boys and three girls in Heaven. Maybe it means nothing. But I still search and wonder – and count. I certainly don’t believe that they ARE my babies – but I like to think that God sends me a message once in a while to help me know that they’re safe with Him.
Three yellow flowers at Gooseberry Falls on mother’s day! It’s not uncommon to see three little flowers. I know that. But when they catch my eye and I think of my babies – it brings a moment of comfort and I have to believe that is a gift from God.
So I move ahead trying to capture the beauty around me in 3’s and 5’s and am thankful each day when I see them.