5/14/23

Today is sandwiched between a day I remember as a painfully low day and one that brought immense joy. Three years ago on 5/13/20, we found out that Astrid had died. Tomorrow is her older brother’s birthday. And though it will get its own post, I will briefly mention that Astrid’s birth day is the next day, 5/16.

Next year it looks like I will be spared the aligning of her non-heartbeat day with Mother’s Day. I’m grateful for that. As the parent of a child who died before they “should” have, these Hallmark holidays can be especially difficult. It’s a fine line to walk being excited to have kids around and yet recognizing things are not complete. Someone is missing. (Two someones, actually.) And while I do want to be upbeat and cheery for my four Shecklets, my melancholic self tends to notice who is missing. And that makes me sad.

I can’t believe it has been three years since we lost Astrid. The times I imagine her as the age she “should” be are fewer than in the past, but I do tend to picture her as an almost three year old around this time of year. I see my four kids getting older, growing in independence, and I enjoy each one of the so much. And yet, when I stop and look, I realize my picture is not complete. Someone is missing.