Lot of tears tonight… tired, worn tears. Salty trails down my cheeks, an ache in my heart. Grief is a funny creature. It can totally overrun me. Not that it changes my beliefs, but it sure changes my thoughts. It does not change my circumstances but can really cloud my perspective. It steps into a perfectly good memory and floods my mind with the sadness of my loss. It takes the JOY I once felt and taunts me that I might never feel it again. Grief is a reminder of all the love I hold in my heart that has no place to come out other than my words and my tears.
I was thinking today about my sweet baby Millie. Special memories of her rushed birth. Her fuzzy head and baby scent. Her sweet giggles and smiles we shared. Her love to eat things off the floor, choke, and scare us enough to take her to the hospital. First a ponytail holder, then later a piece of cardboard from a shipping box. She kept me on my toes!
I think of her as a toddler. I could never keep her quiet in church. I tried the church nursery, but she screamed louder even holding onto the door frame as we tried to enter. She was glued to us, but we loved it! She would sing “Oh oh oh OH…” off the Greatest Showman movie. She had a winning smile and sparkly eyes that drew you in. She rarely slept through the night, refused to nurse in bed with me, and demanded that we sit in the rocking chair. She hated wearing any bows in her hair, had blondish hair that held a few sweet curls… enough we would claim we had a curly headed child.
I remember her at two, smiling full of energy. She never realized she was not as big as SJ and Little Man. She danced with her big sisters, did all the teenage selfies with puckered lips, and stuck out tongues. She started to potty train. I wondered if she would wean from nursing soon. She loved to drink my smoothies but got pickier about her foods. She was so busy that she ran all her baby fat off. She was a good napper but always in her own bed. She loved being outside in her swing, barefoot in the grass, or wearing the green boots she snagged from her brother.
Each of these stages I loved. Each of these stages she grew out of. Each of these stages of life have precious memories for me. My sweet baby was growing up, just as all of my other sweet babies have. There was no grief for the past, just expectations for what is to come in their future. I loved all my babies, but I do not miss their babyhoods.
Just after her second birthday, she became a handful, her sleeping overnight got worse, and the terrible twos seemed to set in. Then her diagnosis came. We took a poor little one to the hospital, treating her as a baby. I am not even sure we told her why she was there. She refused to walk, cried, and was very cranky that first admission. When we finally pulled her shoes out of her bag and said, “We need to put your shoes on so we can go home” she came alive! I have wondered if she thought she would never see home again. The first thing she wanted to do upon release was get in her swing. She came home with a Broviac stitched to her chest, hanging low out the front of her shirt. She was weak from chemo and low blood counts. She wanted NORMAL!
Over the year of treatment, she went from a baby who did not know much about life, to someone wise to the cancer world. She knew things that the regular ‘non cancer fighting’ person does not. She knew what each of the test she took were called. She knew that her Broviac and her Gtube although a nuisance were her friends…saving her much pain and misery. She became wise to hiding pills in her food. She knew how to finagle food out of mom and dad any time of the day or night (she needed the calories!). She knew how to operate every button on her hospital bed and how to call her own nurse. She even got mad when we refused to let her order room service.
She knew where she could play in the hospital, who her friends were, and what nurses would go along with her shenanigans. She learned how to operate her iPad and all her movies; even how to rewind to the good parts. She learned to tell jokes, thought she was super funny, and all grown up at once. She learned to like coffee and requested it every time we passed a McDonalds, although it was a super sweet frappe. She knew to be quiet in the hospital halls because ‘she might wake the babies’. She knew you wore your mask and sanitized your hands every where we went.
Millie learned the ways of both the hospital world, but also of the world. She learned about Jesus. We talked about heaven. She could often be heard praying for her own healing, Ady, Ruby, or Ben to be healed. She prayed for her nurses and her family. She had a huge loving heart. She knew about driving the tractor with dad, cooking with Grundma, farm animals, building the tiny house, doing school with mom, and loving her nieces both big and small.
I do not miss Millie’s babyhood. I do not miss Millie’s future and who she might have been. I do not focus on the days we were not given. I do not feel cheated for having no future milestones. I really do believe she came, lived the life God planned her and lived it well. However, I do miss the life we had with Millie. The everyday life, both big and small things we had with our girl. The frozen burritos, the ‘berries’ from McDonalds, the coffee in her mini cup she borrowed from a sister. I miss the sweet baby voice singing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” late at night. The last memory I have of her singing it was June 27th as we headed home from her fishing trip. She saw the lights on top of the radio towers mistaking them for stars and sang her song.
I miss her yelling at Little Man when he got in her way or took her turn. I miss her telling Josh and Joe to ‘rub my legs’. I miss her silly sister antics, dancing and singing with the girls. Watching videos of rolled ice cream with Maggie and so much more. I miss that wildly funny, sassy, 3-year-old little girl. My JOY! My sweet Amelia Joy who would say “I’m Millie” in her baby voice. I MISS HER! Every day, every hour…
My heart misses Millie!
Psalms 43:5 "Why am I discouraged? Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again— my Savior and my God!"
Psalm 40:1-2
1 I waited patiently for the Lord;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
2 He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
I still believe in Millie’s Miracle
｡･:*:･ﾟ☆Hebrews 11:1 ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
︵‿︵‿୨☆୧‿︵‿︵
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