Almost three and a half years ago I was thrown into the world of the grieving parent. At the time, I was in a highly alert state, taking words that were said to me and dissecting them one by one. Sometimes people said things that I found confusing, and maybe even hurtful. I started reading…
“I think she’s see’s him.”
I’ve been trying to explain the recent conversation with our three-year old, rainbow to my husband. She’s been talking about “her brother” a lot lately. She’s even talked about a conversation she had with him. I know she has a good imagination, but the things she is saying…
My husband doesn’t like to think about it.
I think it scares him a little. The possibility of our angel son visiting his little sister and playing Legos in her room. To me it’s a nice thought. It’s nice to think that while she is still young and her mind is open she might be able to have a connection to him that we can’t see.
I’ve suspected it for awhile now.
When she just a few months old she would focus her attention on what I would assume was nothing for long periods of time, and she would just smile and giggle. As if she was seeing something or someone that I couldn’t see. Now, she is three and she talks about him.
She says she loves her brother.
The first time I heard her say those words, I pretty much burst into tears. Those are words that I thought I would never get to hear her say. To hear her say his name. To hear her say she loves her brother. Those are magical moments for a rainbow mom.
We’ve always told her about her brother.
We have his baby photo on the table in the living room right next to hers. She asks questions. We answer. It is something that I never want to shy away from with her. I want her to always know him. I want her to feel comfortable talking about him and knowing that there was a big brother that came before her.
It’s equally important to me that she never feels like she is living in his shadow.
I never want her to feel like she has to live for two. That she has to be what he couldn’t. I already feel as though I carry an enormous weight of guilt on my shoulders, I never want her to feel any of that burden. She is her own unique, amazing, wonderful self, and we are everyday grateful for her and the chance to watch her grow.
They share a special bond.
I had read an article a few years ago about the special bond between a mother and her child. It explained that cells from a developing baby stay with the mother and actually become part of the mother’s DNA. Which was it’s own kind of beautiful to think that literally part of my children are always with me. The article went to say this:
“Fetal cells can be shared from one pregnancy to another, meaning the cells of older siblings may float within younger siblings.”
He is always with her.
They are connected. They are bonded in a way that only brother and sister can be. I pray that he watches over his little sister, and that he will continue to have a connection to her throughout her life. I know as she grows and her mind becomes less open his visits may not seem as obvious to her. Though I hope she can always look at the way the cardinal lands next to her or the way the butterfly flutters around and know that he is near. He will always be with her. Always.