The Gift of a Vision

The other night, I walked into Kaitlyn's room and saw that she had fallen asleep on the floor. I was immediately saddened. Without thinking to or trying to, I could perfectly imagine Matthew there cuddling with her, asleep next to her. Not the 10 week old baby that we miss, but the 13 month old toddler we never got to meet. I could perfectly see every part of him. I could see them together, growing up together sharing all of their love.

I can see how much Kaitlyn loves Matthew each and every day. She loves him so much. She talks to him all the time. The other day she was talking to him and finished by saying/yelling (he can hear better in Heaven if she yells) "Okay Matthew, I'm going to Hang Up now, I love you, bye."

Kaitlyn continues to be a great big sister to him. She continues to love him and to share him with everyone she meets. She continues to do nice things to show him how much she loves him, she continues to talk to him and keep him a part of our family. My heart breaks for all of the wonderful joys that a big sister should get to enjoy for being so great. My heart breaks for the sadness she feels and does not yet understand.

I never really worried about dividing my time between Kaitlyn and Matthew. I knew from day 1 of my pregnancy that I loved them both with all that I have to give. When Matthew was here, it was fairly easy to give them both a lot of one on one time and a lot of family time. Kaitlyn loved having Matthew be a part of story time and Matthew was with us for every part of the day. I never felt torn.

Now that Matthew isn't physically here, I feel much more torn. There is the constant feeling of both sadness and joy, the feelings of pain and happiness, both the feelings of fear and pride. The constant thought that I wish there was 2 of me, 1 with Matthew and 1 with Kaitlyn. But, that can't be.

The best way to describe how I feel lately is to think of it as a storm. There is this big heavy cloud of sadness and once in a while, it will drift to the side, still there but allowing some sunlight in as well. Without any warning it can and does shift back directly over you. There are times when I feel at peace with Matthew's life and blessed that we had him as long as we did and that he is now with God. Then, there are times when he is missed so much it is physically painful.

Sometimes, out of nowhere it seems, I get the perfect vision of what Matthew would look like today. I like to think it's a gift, it's a gift to ease the pain until we are together again.