Who You'd Be Today

It ain't fair: you died too young,
Like the story that had just begun,
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you,
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowin' no one could take your place.
An' sometimes I wonder,
Who'd you be today?

--“Who You'd Be Today,” Kenny Chesney

I’m drained from such an emotionally hard day. We bought our baby’s urn and finalized the details for proofing: her ultrasound picture, a quote, and a poem to be engraved on the sides. 

I’ve picked an outfit and accessories to be cremated with her. The dress and bow are from a big bag of girls’ clothes that I bought for her on Black Friday, so excited that I’d be having a girl to dress up. They ranged in sizes to fit her from Newborn to her first year, and I so looked forward to watching her grow into them as the seasons changed. The particular dress I chose would have been her coming-home outfit when she would have been due: May 13^th, on Mother’s Day. I’ve been advised to donate the clothes since I wouldn’t be able to use anything for Luc, but I couldn’t bring myself to part with outfits so carefully and lovingly selected.

At Target, we bought booties and a unicorn comfort blankie for Thi. I thought of my tiny baby wearing the soft pink preemie booties that were still too big for her, clutching the blankie for companionship as she stumbled along the paths of the afterworld. 

I did not cry while meeting with representatives from different funeral homes and cemeteries. But I was arrested in my tracks in the middle of the children’s clothing section at Target; I put my hand over my aching heart as my eyes welled up with tears. I was not prepared for such a sudden and heavy emotional trigger. Heck, I was just going shopping, as I had done so many times in the past for my son, and for gifts for baby showers and friends’ newborns. Something about these being the last things I’ll be buying for my little girl to wear just breaks my heart.