Who am I kidding, while I’ve talked about other things and claimed this
to be a general blog, this has always been more about Aurelia than anything
else. And specifically about me and my dealing with her life and death. And thus I'm here, not trying to fill in a missing year, or even reflect on any greater aspect of life, but just to reflect on where I am in my relationship with her and her life and death.
At first when I reflected on her, I really only saw the death. And I
was angry.
I still see the death at times, and don’t get me wrong, I’m still
angry, I expect I will always be, but I realized this morning that I’m seeing
her life now more often than I’m seeing her death.
I’m seeing that she impacted people. From her name to her loss, she has
changed the course of the world. Not in the great ways that we write epics
about or that fill our history books, but in the simple ways that flow into the
exquisite banalities of everyday life. From extra hugs given to children, to
moment of frustration able to be delayed just a couple minutes more, she has
impacted people. And the gift of her milk benefited babies whom I will never
know, but whose lives may have been saved from NEC through the donation of “her
milk”. The gift of my being able to connect to another mother experiencing this
all too frequent happening. Trajan will never take the birth of a child as a
certainty, and while I mourned for this a bit when I realized it, this also is
a gift from Aurelia’s existence.
I received a number of texts and messages this morning from people who
remembered that today is her day and hers alone. The day of their birth will
always be both of theirs as the day of his NICU discharge will always be his.
And for some reason one touched me differently and I realized that I had tears
in my eyes, but they were not of sorrow, they were of joy. Joy that we are not
the only ones who remember her.
The greatest gift I can be offered in Aurelia’s honor is not forgetting
her.
I think part of seeing her life more means that when I woke up today,
while I was acutely aware of the day as I have been in the past, my desire was
to do something positive and celebrate her existence rather than just reflect
on my hating Veteran’s Day. And I did.
I reached out to an acquaintance who experienced the stillbirth of a
twin a year or so ago, to pass on the importance of not feeling unique, alone,
and isolated in the experience. I sent a flower arrangement to my amazing OB
who has spent over a continuous week with me in the last three years, and who
has given of herself as not just a doctor, but as a person and as a friend with
just a simple note of thanks. Not because it was needed, as I’m pretty sure she
knows my appreciation of her, but just as a simple thing to make me smile in
remembering Aurelia and the first person who ever touched her and did so with
not just care in her movements, but true depth of emotion.
Aurelia Diane, you were named for the strongest woman from ancient
history that I could think of (that Paul would agree to, he vetoed Hatshepsut,
for which we should all be thankful) who impacted the course of history. While
your ripples in the universe will not be known by name millennia from now, they
are no less significant. You matter, my first baby girl.
Aurelia Diane, you have two sisters who both bear a first name beginning
with an A in your memory and a powerful middle name we bestowed upon them in your honor. You
have an oldest brother who remembers you always and has been the force in this
universe who has most unabashedly kept your memory alive. And you have a twin
who does not know you now, but will know you, and know the gift of time that
you gave him.
Aurelia Diane, I promise to try to see your life more instead of your
death. I promise to try to continue living the lessons you taught me and to
continue to share them.
Aurelia Diane, I’m not sure I ever actually told you this in words, but
I love you.
