I bought a lotion today at Superstore - it was kinda random - I needed a brand to deal with winter skin and this one fit the bill.
I didn't remember if I'd ever tried it before - and it wasn't an issue as Kurt and the girls were waiting for me to cash out and I just needed to choose one and go.
When I got home I had a quick bath and broke out the new lotion to get ready for bed.
The scent was familiar at first - and I vaguely registered I had used it before.
But like a sudden flash of lightning the memory became crisp and clear - bringing tears.
I pressed my eyes shut and sat on the edge of the bed and let my mind go back in time.
I had bought that lotion before Autumn was born - to take to the hospital in my bag for use after delivery.
The day she was born, I used that lotion after I showered. When I held her, I smelled it. Her blankets I brought home smelled like it. In the weeks after her death I would go into her room and hold that yellow blanket and weep... clinging to something physical - trying to create and maintain connections with the child I never had a chance to know.
Eventually, the blanket lost it's scent. The lotion ran out and I never bought the same kind.
Life moved on - and I have felt for a long time all I had was the pictures. On October 21st, 2007, I was in physical pain, as well as shock. I've not even been sure I have any real memories of that day. It's kind of like looking at pictures of your childhood: you might think you remember something... but it's really only just a vague impression that has been reinforced by the snapshots you see in photo albums. I'll be honest: this has grieved me deeply. It's like the most momentous event in my history: and I don't even feel like I was fully present.
That's the incredible impact of today.
I had no idea, but my aching, inexperienced, brand-new-mommy heart did take measure - even in the shock and grief - it latched on to something to remember.
Like a perfume, or a particular brand of laundry detergent often characterizes people to us... this lotion is the smell of Autumn. It's in my heart. And my heart is remembering more clearly than it has in a very long time the feel of her tiny body - her little fingers and toes... and her scent.
3 years and 3 months after the most horrible day of my life, I'm faced with the bittersweet discovery that I do have more of her than mere pictures. My heart has stored a memory of her as clear as those of her sister's baby-fresh scents.
It's like finding a long-lost treasure I didn't even know was missing.
It hurts, though. Enough to bring tears.
But it's something 'new' of her that I can have for me for the rest of my life.
I love you forever, Autumn. Tonight more than ever... because with every breath, it's like you are in my arms again.
I miss you so terribly, baby girl... but I'm grateful.
Thank you, Jesus.
I didn't remember if I'd ever tried it before - and it wasn't an issue as Kurt and the girls were waiting for me to cash out and I just needed to choose one and go.
When I got home I had a quick bath and broke out the new lotion to get ready for bed.
The scent was familiar at first - and I vaguely registered I had used it before.
But like a sudden flash of lightning the memory became crisp and clear - bringing tears.
I pressed my eyes shut and sat on the edge of the bed and let my mind go back in time.
I had bought that lotion before Autumn was born - to take to the hospital in my bag for use after delivery.
The day she was born, I used that lotion after I showered. When I held her, I smelled it. Her blankets I brought home smelled like it. In the weeks after her death I would go into her room and hold that yellow blanket and weep... clinging to something physical - trying to create and maintain connections with the child I never had a chance to know.
Eventually, the blanket lost it's scent. The lotion ran out and I never bought the same kind.
Life moved on - and I have felt for a long time all I had was the pictures. On October 21st, 2007, I was in physical pain, as well as shock. I've not even been sure I have any real memories of that day. It's kind of like looking at pictures of your childhood: you might think you remember something... but it's really only just a vague impression that has been reinforced by the snapshots you see in photo albums. I'll be honest: this has grieved me deeply. It's like the most momentous event in my history: and I don't even feel like I was fully present.
That's the incredible impact of today.
I had no idea, but my aching, inexperienced, brand-new-mommy heart did take measure - even in the shock and grief - it latched on to something to remember.
Like a perfume, or a particular brand of laundry detergent often characterizes people to us... this lotion is the smell of Autumn. It's in my heart. And my heart is remembering more clearly than it has in a very long time the feel of her tiny body - her little fingers and toes... and her scent.
3 years and 3 months after the most horrible day of my life, I'm faced with the bittersweet discovery that I do have more of her than mere pictures. My heart has stored a memory of her as clear as those of her sister's baby-fresh scents.
It's like finding a long-lost treasure I didn't even know was missing.
It hurts, though. Enough to bring tears.
But it's something 'new' of her that I can have for me for the rest of my life.
I love you forever, Autumn. Tonight more than ever... because with every breath, it's like you are in my arms again.
I miss you so terribly, baby girl... but I'm grateful.
Thank you, Jesus.
