It's the Little Things

In the months after Vivienne died, I found myself constantly thinking of the big milestones we would miss having with her – first birthdays, seeing her take her first steps, or going to her first day of school. I still have those moments, but they have been overtaken by thinking of all of the little things we will never get to experience with our little girl or our other children. Every day, there are thousands of things that remind me of what we are missing with them. Small, inconsequential, mundane moments that most people probably don’t notice with their kids – I’m aching for them.

I drive to work and think about what it would be like to have her in the back seat, babbling or fussing, as I drive her to Grandma’s house. I come home and think about what it would be like to see her face smiling back at me. I eat dinner and wonder what foods she would like and not like. I have a day off and I think about what it would be like to spend the day with her – doing some shopping, going to the zoo, hanging out and playing at home. Every day, a thousand little things cross my mind that I’m missing with my children.

I even have dreams about these everyday activities. Recently, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling sad and empty because of a dream I’d had. In it, I was buying baby clothes for Vivienne. That was it. I have dreams about the incredibly simple act of buying clothes for my daughter, and they wreck me.

We recently took a vacation, and while it was nice to get away, it also came with the thousands of reminders of what we will miss. We’ll never see our children light up with excitement at the prospect of swimming every day. We’ll never take them to the beach and build sandcastles. We’ll never see them get over-excited over an ordinary hotel room. We’ll never get to calm them during a meltdown over having to leave the pool. I know that those of you with kids cringe at that last one. I’d give anything for it.

The holidays come with this overwhelming mixture of big and little things.

For Halloween, I not only thought about how I would never take my kids trick or treating or take pictures of them in costume to show to everyone. I also thought about how we’ll never have the conversation “what do you want to be for Halloween this year?” We’ll never go shopping for the costume, and watch Vivienne proudly display it. We’ll never have those arguments over not being able to wear the costume all of the time or having to wear it even if it’s itchy or uncomfortable.

For Thanksgiving, it’s not just about not having her there for the big family meal. It’s about never doing the drive to our family’s with her, not getting to watch our family members hold her and play with her, and never seeing turkeys made from her handprints.

And Christmas isn’t just the loss of visits to Santa and opening presents on Christmas morning. We’ll never pick out a special Christmas outfit for her, see her in the Christmas play, sit down with the toy catalog and make a list for Santa, have the conversations about whether or not Santa is real, bake Christmas cookies with her, decorate the Christmas tree with her, have her join us for the annual girl's Christmas shopping day, or watch her play with the boxes and wrapping instead of her new toys. One holiday, thousands upon thousands of things to miss.

And so these become the latest things for me to grieve. Every day, a thousand things to mourn that I’ll never get to do with my children. Beyond the big milestones of birthdays and holidays, I’ll never buy toys or necessities for my children. I’ll never watch them play outside in the leaves and the snow. I’ll never have them running around the house playing, singing, and getting in the way. Everyday parenting moments stolen from us, and each one feels like another loss.