missing

It's been two months since baby girl left.

We miss her.

Some days it's just a slight, dull ache behind most things we do.
I feel her missing presence, but don't voice it.

Other days, I want to wallow in self-pity and sadness. Lock the door and cry until I feel better. Call out to the Comforter of All to take away the missing piece of my heart and fill it up with something better instead.

Yesterday we were having a lunch-playdate with friends. There were a dozen kids running around. The host-mom has a one-year-old, too. As I watched the baby toddle across the floor and hold out those chubby little hands for Momma, my heart was ripped open again with longing and missing my baby girl. I was among friends. I should have been able to talk about what was going through my head and heart. But I didn't want to put voice to my thoughts and feelings. I didn't want to be so raw and vulnerable and depressing. I didn't want to drag someone else down with me.

But you know what? After I got home, I realized: I should have said it. "I miss her."
That wouldn't have been so hard, would it? 

So, next time you see me, ask about baby girl.
It makes me happy that other people remember her and think of her too.