Another Milestone

Tomorrow my girl will be one day older than her sister. Every day she lives after that is an age that her sister never got to be.

I've had this date on my mind for quite a while, but I didn't realize the nasty feeling it would create in the pit of my stomach. Anticipation again, wreaking havoc on my body.

I think about my daughter and realize once again that she saved me. I was lucky in some ways that I had a baby who needed me. I didn't wake up the day after my daughter died wondering whether I was still a mother, as I've heard some women do when they lose their only child. I didn't have an older child to explain things to, or console.

My baby girl literally gave me a reason to get out of bed day after day in those early weeks and months after her sister died. I've breastfed all three of my children, and while the oldest and youngest both took/take bottles, the middle one never did. She would rather not eat than take a bottle. And while I'm sure she wouldn't have starved herself if I'd been unable to nurse her, knowing how stubborn she was made me decide to try to keep nursing her. It gave me a reason to eat.

Also unlike my other two, my middle child slept 8 hours in a row consistently from about 8 weeks old until this very day. Today I sit here, sleepy, mildly confused, having woken up at midnight and 4 AM with my baby boy. And I realize that I probably would have broken down if I'd gotten this little sleep after losing my daughter. Somehow, her little sister was different in a way I needed her to be.

My daughter has also been unlucky, with a weight on her shoulders she probably doesn't even know exists. She had to get me through that time so I'd be here for her for years to come. I sometimes hovered over her, sometimes handed her off to friends for hours on end, compared her to her sister, and probably denied her some time and attention she would have gotten, had I been more mentally and emotionally stable in her first few months or life. My husband says she is very attached to me, sensitive to my moods. I tend to agree with him though I hate to think of that burden on my 2-year old.

Tomorrow will be a relief--she made it past that age. Not that I'm done worrying--just knowing what losing a child feels like has made me more sensitive to possible dangers, probably more so than most parents. But I'm not worried in the same way for my son. It's as if I feel he's safe because he wasn't around when his sister died. It's sad too, because she never saw him, and I honestly don't know if she knows he exists.

Think of me tomorrow, and my now-big girl, older than her sister forever onwards.