Conversations with my toddler

Recently Mon Cœur (MC) and I have shared some conversations that have been very meaningful to me.  I have decided to share this post and pictures not to sensationalize our situation, nor to make anyone sad for us, instead to share how we are navigating our lives amidst our loss.  This is our reality.

Where’s Poopa?

MC has recently been very curious and interested in Poopa and Millie.  

“Where is Poopa?” she asked on a recent car ride.

“He’s in heaven with your sister, Millie,” I said as levelly as I could, knowing I had to drop her off with Mom and keep myself together for work.

“I want see Poopa in my house.”

“Okay, when we get home we can see Poopa. You can see Poopa at Mooma’s house too, when we get there.” Mom has a very nice bookcase with various pictures of Daddy and our family throughout the years, sort of like our little spot we made for All Saints Day.

Silence. A few quiet tears. “Mommy, you not feel well?”

“Mommy’s okay, thank you, Baby.”

I save you

The other day, she hugged me and said, “I save you.”  Whenever she wants a really nice snug, she’ll say, “Save me!” and so I snug her.

But on this day, we were just at the kitchen table, and she came up to me and said, “I save you!” with a big smile and huge open arms that enveloped me.  

I picked her up in my lap and said, “You don’t even know how much you have saved Daddy and me.”  We just sat there and “saved each other” for a few moments at the table.

You got somebody in your belly?

She asked me this the other day, and I shrugged it off.  She asked me again yesterday, so we chatted.  I shouldn’t take this as any toddler clairvoyance – I mean she’s super smart, and I’m super biased, but this is a little above and beyond.  

We did just have a few spoonfuls of Nutella the other day, so that’s probably what’s in my belly.  I still have to wait a little over a week to see if we were successful this month, which to anyone who has tried, knows what an eternity that week feels like.  

To me, it feels like eternity and a day, but what can I do but wait? I don’t want to get my hopes up or put too much stock in this question from MC, every other month we’ve tried, I’ve been hopeful, and then crestfallen that it didn’t take.

“You got somebody in your belly?”

“I don’t know, MC, maybe?”

“You got A in your belly?” A is my niece to be, who MC kissed in my sister’s belly last week.

“No it’s not A.  A is in Sissy’s belly. Remember how I had Millie in my belly?”
MC continued to ask questions. “Millie’s there?” she said, pointing to our little corner.

“Yes, Millie’s over there. Do you want to say something to Millie?” I asked.  Well, she asked if she could shake her first, to which I explained no, we can’t shake Millie, we have to hold her gently, like a baby.

So I went over, and got Millie down from her spot, and let MC hold her.  She couldn’t resist trying to shake her, but once I reminded her, she just held it.  Then she noticed the sunlight reflected on the urn and was in awe for a few moments.

I asked again if she wanted to say anything to her, and she smiled and whispered, “I love you” into the urn.  

I was surprised at how well I was making it through this.  The whole situation of the stillbirth still upsets me to my core, however we can’t do anything to change what’s happened. We have to accept this as our reality, and we will continue to include those passed on in our lives regularly.  Still, I didn’t want to sit too long with MC and Millie on the couch.  After all, this is not at all what I had planned for our family, and I felt it was time to put Millie back in her spot.

I asked MC if she wanted to sing a song to Millie before we put her back.  She replied, “I want sing happy birthday.”  A little ironic as far as choices, although we did. Then I let MC put Millie back in her spot on the shelf.

This is our life and how we are choosing to live it.  I hope that I’m doing the “right thing” by MC. I’m doing what I know feels right, so to me it must be right, despite what others may think. Although I miss Dad and Millie incredibly, it is comforting that we are remembering them through small conversations peppered in our everyday lives.

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