My goal for Thanksgiving weekend is almost complete. It was to sort Millie’s pictures digitally and get them ready to print. As I sorted her baby years, I have sweet memories of her and what a happy baby she was. We had so much fun as a family of…normal…
Next, I sorted toddler pictures. They were filled with smiles, fun trips, lots of snuggles, and the start of a personality. We took her camping, then to Disney World, and then a visit to Cocoa Beach. She traveled pretty easy, slept well, and was a pretty compliable baby…EXCEPT in church. Every Sunday I was taking her out as she quickly figured out if you made noise we would head for the back.
When I got to Millie’s two-year-old photos, there are good memories but also many memories of the ‘Terrible Twos’ that were seemingly starting. So often she was whiny and cried. She was more difficult to take care of. She demanded to be held, OFTEN! I wondered how long this hard age would last. I wondered if we would survive it. At 2 ½ the tummy pains and fevers worried me more than the behavior. And then the diagnosis came….
Something I often think on and am perplexed by is that as much as I LOVED those first 2 ½ years, I do not miss them. Like all my other children, I had a precious baby who grew to be a toddler, who grew to be two. The natural progression of growth was one I celebrated with great joy, but do not long for a return of it. Just as I celebrated my other children leaving babyhood, I celebrate that Millie grew past that stage.
Once she turned 2 ½, life sped up for Millie. We took a little baby without many language skills into a big hospital to learn the way of the cancer world. She learned when it is ok to get out of bed and what medications prohibited that. She learned what machines caused discomfort and that a morphine pain pump brought relief at the press of a button. She learned how to tell jokes, tease her nurses, and demand her way. She learned that the few things she could control in life were dear enough to demand her way and get it. Things like when she refused to wear any pullups without Minnie Mouse on them, even though half the bag had ‘Toy Story Jesse” on them.
As her language skill grew, her bravery did too. She knew she would cry and scream while receiving a shot, but often assured us she would not kick. She gained self-control with each poke. She learned to pray each time I heard her beg the Lord “please take my cancer away” or “heal Ady, Jesus”. She would even pray for her nurses healing, as if they arrived on 10W to battle their own cancer rather than all the children they cared for. By the time Millie was 3, she spoke well enough that we knew her and knew her well. She loved BIG! She had a deep conscious when she hurt others, being willing to forgive and ask forgiveness. I still laugh though thinking of her telling me she was sorry and telling me she forgave me when she acted naughty.
All this comes to mind so readily as I sort through the pictures. Ones that I remember taking and memories that are blurred from a year of trauma. Some of the pictures are so vivid and real it makes me think I can reach out and touch her. I still feel her little hand in mine. Her body weight as I rocked her. Her fuzzy head on my lips as I stole a kiss. It takes my breath away. I often have to back away for a minute or risk falling into that abyss of regret and longing. I miss the 3-year-old Millie so much! I miss what we had and what we do not have now. I had planned in my mind to have a big ‘end of cancer treatment’ party where you all could meet her. Instead we had a celebration of life that I know was beautiful but much of it runs together in my mind. I often pause and wonder if certain people were at the funeral. I have been known to ask precious friends if they attended, though I cannot imagine they would not attend. I just have little memory of this spring. As I have typed the names on the photos “Mother’s Day 2020” I’ve have had to correct myself from putting the wrong dates. All 2020 dates seem a lifetime ago. It feels so long since I have held her. I sure miss my Millie Joy.
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