Time is flying way too fast and I know that I say that too
often!
Dash is now 8 months old and continuing to grow like a weed.
She barely fits into the size 12 month t-shirts and definitely needs size 18m
pants and onesies.
Dash developed a weird spot on her arm in August. It started
as a pimple thing and I thought it was a bug bite. It grew, scabbed over and
peeled, then healed up as if nothing had ever been there. About 2 weeks later,
a similar spot showed up on her tummy.
There are now several spots so I’m going to be taking her
into the doctor early this week, hoping that she knows what is going on.
Spitfire has completed 4 weeks of kindergarten now and is
having a wonderful time! Her favorite part of the day is when she comes home
and gets to share the jokes her teacher tells them while they wait for the bus.
“What is black and white and red all over?” – A zebra with a
sunburn
“What do you call witches that share a bedroom?” –Broomates!
“What are skeletons afraid of?” –dogs!
Her reading continues to progress, too. Each day we spend a
few minutes going through a set of site word flashcards and she is enjoying
those, although she seems to remember the longer words such as “pretty” and “ride”
better than “the” and “and”. As a
teacher and a mom, watching her get a
word is so much fun!
Reader is having a fabulous time in school, too. Her teacher
is flying through the material faster than expected and that is keeping my
daughter from being bored. She recently scored a 94% on her math test and a
100% on her Virginia Studies test.
Oh, and Spitfire got the first Citizen of the Month award!
She is so very excited to have been picked and it really makes me wish that I could
see what she’s like in class each day.
My efforts to continue family scripture study have continued
and we’re succeeding most nights. We’re somewhere around 5 nights a week, I
believe.
Tonight we were reading in Alma 27 and the topic of the
Anti-Nephi-Lehis came up and Spitfire asked if they were the people who had
buried their swords and laid down to die. I was surprised that she had
remembered not only their name, but also something that set them apart from
other scripture stories we have read. She also asked how everyone knew they
were dead if they all laid down together.
That question was a little harder to field, not wanting to
go into the gory details, but I admit that it was surprising to me that she was
paying close enough attention to recognize what was going on. She generally
sits on the floor, flying Toothless around in her arms.
But she’s listening!
Multiple times this week I have wanted to talk to Mom. The
anniversary of the death of one of our little girls is tomorrow, although we
didn’t have confirmation until the next day. It has been 3 years since we lost
her; 3 years since I sank into an emotional pit I wasn’t sure I would ever be
able to escape. The PTSD has resolved itself with some significant help from my
Heavenly Father and with Dash as well as learning my triggers and how to manage
them as best as possible.
I wonder what Mom
would have told me during the years of pain and my inability to control some of
my responses.
I wonder if she, beyond the veil, knew Dash before her
birth.
I wonder how often she comes to comfort me in my sleep and
how often she comforts Dash, too.
I caught Dash staring intently at the photo of Mom that sits
on the shelf in her room. It seemed as if Dash was having silent communication
with my mother and I didn’t want to interrupt whatever Dash was experiencing.
The presence of another in her room was palpable even before I realized that
she was looking and then nest to the photo.
Dash is a peaceful child. I hear comments from family and
friends often regarding how happy and calm she is. She is happy and content day in and day out, with the rare exception when she's overly tired or hungry, but those are quite rare.
I said before she was born that she was my calm after the storm.
She is a true rainbow baby; our miracle after devastation.
With that knowledge comes the fear that one of my children
will be taken from me before they reach old age. As I thought about that fear
earlier this week after reading a news article about a baby killed in a car
accident, I began to think about the adults in my life who lost children at
various ages.
My grandfather and grandmother lost their youngest son when
he was 18 years old. My husband’s aunt lost her son before his first birthday.
My great-grandmother lost her daughter 7 days after birth. My maternal
grandparents lost multiple children in the second trimester of pregnancy. My
aunt lost her son while he was in his twenties.
Losing a child happens more often than I think most people
realize. I have heard (and even said) that a mother should never have to bury
her child but thousands of years of history says otherwise. I am not alone. Life is fragile so I do what I
can to treasure even the mundane moments. I
try each day to appreciate what I have in my life and thank my Heavenly Father
for each of my daughters.
