February 25, 2011

Forever. Better.

I had forgotten what it sounded like, the hum of the refrigerator.  It is all that fills the deafening silence that descends upon our house once Channing succumbs to his afternoon nap.  The little peels of laughter and never ending chorus of 'watch this mommy' drown it out until nap time arrives.  Back in September, the rubber grind of Sophie's feeding pump pushed that of the refrigerator into the background.  Every three hours, for half of an hour, grumble-grumble-grumble-pause-pause, grumble-grumble-grumble-pause-pause, the plastic wheel moving my milk through the rubber tubing to fill her hungry belly.  


As the months progressed and more equipment amassed, the litany of sounds grew to include a pulse oximeter with its humming fan and alarm.  Its descending notes, a beep-beep-beep-be-beep, that called out when Sophie's numbers dipped too low.  Occasionally, the clatter of the hospital-grade suction machine would chime in, the mucus from GI reflux too thick to be cleared on its own.  Sophie's personal melody rose and fell over the din, most of the time sounding like the bleat of a newborn goat.  


On sunny afternoons such as today, we'd cozy up together on the sofa.  With her tiny body nestled into the crook of my arm, head tucked carefully into the curve of the side of my neck, I'd tease her about her obnoxious snoring, first telling her she put her daddy's almost theatrical racket to shame, then admitting I'm a hundred decibels louder than he is when I'm pregnant.  Oh yes, she knows how, when she was gently floating in my belly, I'd snore so loud I'd wake even myself.  


Closing my eyes, I can still feel the weight of her body on my chest.  Oh my bitty little girl...


We will never be the same as before this loss, but we are forever better for having had something so great to lose.  


Forever.


Better.


Until this pain evolves into what is anticipated to be a dull and constant ache, we will seek out the bright spots that glimmer through the grief that brings us to our knees.  Chocolate ice cream covered faces.  Dappled sunlight.  





Thank you to our family and our friends for your continuous outpouring of love and support.  We are blessed.  We are truly blessed.

3 comments:

KC said...

Beautifully written my love.

Molly said...

Oh Holly...I just want to give you a big hug! Love you...

Lynnea said...

Hugs to all of you...