Kneeling before Him...
Creative Commons License.
Cunning Linguists Journals
Yes Master BDSM Bedtime Stories Toplist
BDSM is Love
danae Within Reality
Daze Reader Sex News Blog
ErosBlog: The Sex Blog
Gloria's Oversexed Mind
Mistress Matisse's Journal
my scratching post
Thursday, September 02, 2004
I am sorry. I don't have much of a post today. I have written it out twice and then decided that it was not my story to tell. Mac told me that this is my place to express myself the way I want to and He is right, it is and this little girl is so very much a part of my life. But this is just one of those things where the wound is too raw and still so very open, that each time I start I break down in tears.
Mac says that it is the hormones talking and I guess a part of it is. He made me cry when He said 'I love you' today. I have spent the week on edge not knowing what today would bring and still it scares me in so many different ways.
You see, five years ago on this day, my gorgeous sister gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She was perfect in every way. She was strong and she was alert and she radiated love in that way that babies do. She grew as expected and developed normally, by six weeks she had just started to smile at her dad. Then without warning, without fever or illness, Ellie Rose started to fit. A mere 24 hours later, she was pronounced brain dead.
So how do I express the anger that I still feel? Mistakes were made at the hospital, paediatricians not called in because of a misdiagnosis, hours wasted when minutes can mean the difference between life and death for a six-week-old child. How do I tell you of the resentment I still carry towards those that had her life in their hands and did nothing to take her pain away?
How can I explain the sadness, the dark spot that sits on my heart and finds me in my times of quiet? How do I tell of the heaviness of empty arms and the sting of tears? How do I rationalise the pain when I know myself that the grief is supposed to fade? The loss is supposed to lessen. The wound is supposed to heal. It doesn't. The pain is still so very real, only it comes less frequently now.
How do I tell of the way she changed my life, of the beauty she brought to it, of the love and gentleness she gave me, of the better person she helped me discover? I don't know how to explain how much more aware of other people I became.
Today I will take the most perfect pink roses and rest them on her tiny grave. I will wish her the happiest of birthdays and I will imagine that she is giggling at the joy of being five and that her chocolate cake is unlike any we mere mortals get to taste. They save the best stuff for angels, I am sure. Then I will slip my hand in Mac's and He will kiss away the tears and I will put her back in my most secret of hearts, a place that I visit alone, for another year.
Happy Birthday, my sweet little angel girl.
Thank you for being a part of my life.
You are so very loved.