Very soon my boys will reach another milestone. However, this milestone will be much different than the ones we’ve celebrated in the past.
I won’t take their picture. I won’t write it in their baby book as to remember it forever. I won’t give a “Yay, Jake” or a “Yay, Luke” in the typical high-pitched mom voice.
Instead, I will attempt to hold back the flood of tears that have haunted me as I knew this day was inevitable.
My boys will soon be older than their big sister. They will be the oldest, but not the first born. They will have a baby big sister.
No matter which way I say it, I cannot make sense of it.
Unfortunately, for our family, our unique situation, it is true.
Just before Thanksgiving, my boys will go from being the youngest, to the oldest.
I knew this day would come. Just like all the other milestones that have come and gone before. This one, more than any other has affected me greatly.
I will be a new mom. There will be lots of firsts, which are certainly exciting, but they will feel different.
It’s not unusual to hear, “That’s what Emma did” around our house. But soon, those phrases might become obsolete.
That’s the scariest thing about this damned situation. My frame of reference has expired. I have no comparison.
While most of the time I “wing it” as a mom, I’ve always had some similar experience to fall back on.
If I’m being honest, and quite vulnerable, I’m afraid the Emma memories will stop like her age did.
With each passing day, I’m further away from what was. I hope as we continue to make new memories that the ones of Emma are still spoken, still remembered.
If you knew Emma, I ask that you continue to speak her name. If you didn’t know Emma, ask me. I could talk about her forever.
For those who are prayerful, I hope that you would say some extras for my family as we all struggle daily.
Prayerful and Present