You would think this would be easy, but it is not.
She goes far deeper then any stats or physical features could describe.
Stella was born on a foggy October morning. The 28th.
I obsessed over this birthday book during my pregnancy, anticipating her arrival. Curious to which day. What would she be like? How is this new life going to add to the dynamics of our family!?
Excited is a word that doesn't even touch what I felt for her arrival. Obsession may come closer.
She was delivered via emergency csection after the non-stress test started losing her heart tones on the machine. I felt her move one last time before blacking out into the darkness of anesthesia. The black hole that tore life right out of me.
She was born at 11:27am weighing in at 7lbs1oz. 19" in length.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
I just didn't understand. And honestly, I never will.
Her features brought me back 11 years to when her sister was born. She was almost identical.
Almost.
Although her face resembled that of her older sister, her hairline, ears and eyes were mine. Looked like her brother Eli. She was a perfect mix.
Her fathers toes. Long and awkwardly crooked. Just as Bri and Eli also shared.
Long fingers with delicate long finger nails.
Perfect lips.
Chubby cheeks.
Her name was chosen the day I got a positive pregnancy test. Although it was unknown to us all.
I went to my sisters and told her I was pregnant and that I loved the name Stella. After that names came and went, I thought she was a boy for a long time as well, then twins. I just didn't really know what was going on. When she was born I held her lifeless body against mine. Drinking in the sweet smell, her features, the love we have. And I knew all along her name was Stella. My star in heaven.
In the birthday book I would sit and read, over and over.
As if something in there would tell me who she was. What I was missing. Who I would bury.
All I knew was that of her from carrying her, just below my heart, for 38weeks.
Her movements.
When she'd be awake, when she slept. How she rolled and touched me through the skin of my abdomen.
The feeling of love that radiated from my heart to hers.
That was all I knew.
And I wanted more.
I wanted years and years to get to know her.
I wanted to know the color of her eyes.
The sound of her voice. Cries. Laughter. How she would say momma.
The way she would interact with her siblings. Her father.
Was she a snuggle bug? Independent? Clingy?
Would she like squash or peas?
Was she an artist?
I will never know.
I will never really know her identity.
I can only imagine. Or read this book and dream.
"Those born on the 28th believe in being well prepared.
Their strengths include being curious, thorough, interesting. Some weaknesses are they can be prying, demanding and cutting"
The meditation of this day is:
"Learning when to let go and allow things to happen on their own is indeed a practiced art"
Is that MY lesson?
I just will never really know.
I lost that chance.
I lost her in this lifetime.
Given and taken.
I can only imagine or dream of her real identity. As real as she is. The space between or the vails that separate our worlds, our lives, will keep all of that hidden until I can pass and be with her again.
I do know this,
She changed my identity.
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