I have a statue in my garden. Every spring I put it in a garden that overlooks the kids play area. In the fall I bring it in and I put it on a shelf in my laundry room. These are 2 days that tug at my heart. It is a statue of a Buddhist monk holding a baby. They both look extremely peaceful. I don't place a lot of importance on material things, but this is something I hope to have for the rest of my life. I treasure it. (Note - if I was more experienced at this blogging thing, I would post a picture of my statue, but that would mean blogging regularly!!!). There is a whole Buddhist ceremony that it represents that basically say that when you lose a baby before it is born, its soul goes back to the earth to await being reborn.
I got the monk when Sophie was 1.5 yrs old. She has always had an interesting relationship with it. When she was young, she would gently touch the forehead of the monk, as if giving it a blessing. The last couple of years she makes canopies out of hosta leaves to keep them shaded. This spring she was eager to put it out on the first nice, snow free day. This past Saturday, the day before mother's day, the question finally came, the one I had been waiting basically 5 years for her to get around to asking.
"Mommy, why do we have this statue of the monk holding a baby?"
I have always wanted, at the right time, for my kids to know. And apparently for Sophie, that time was now. I took a deep breath and said : When you were 1, I had a baby in my tummy who was sick and couldn't live outside my tummy. I got this statue so that we would always remember that baby". I figured at 8, I could give the watered down version and details could come later, much later. As we sat in silence (as silent as it could be with the flood gate of tears that were flowing from me....) I could see Sophie and her old soul taking it all in. She asked if I knew if it was a boy or a girl (Yes, a girl) and if I had an S name picked out. I said yes, and for the first time ever I spoke aloud the name I had given my baby after the fact - Sasha. We sat in silence a while later and she was off to swing. I continued my gardening and looked over to see that Sophie had tied herself to the empty swing beside her - so she could swing with Sasha she said.
At this point I wondered what have I done? Later she went in to wash her hands and disappeared upstairs. I had told her that I had the ultrasound pictures of all my babies framed in my room. I went up and she was lying in her bed hugging her blankie. "I looked at her picture". All I could do was hug her and hold her and tell her how much I loved her. My dear sweet Sophie. I remember when the genetic counselor called to tell me the chromosome results. I was home with Sophie and I sat on the living room floor and cried. She walked over and started rubbing my back. And now today, here I was sharing my grief with her once again.
It hasn't come up again. I saw her telling her best friend later that same day, but she hasn't brought it up again. I love my girls.
