And that's exactly how it feels.
Truly, I can barely wrap my mind around that number. 7 years. That long since I birthed her, and said "hello" and "goodbye" on the same day? On March 16, it'll have been 7 years of missing her. 7 years of her birthday life celebrations. 7 years of memorial candlelight services and remembrance walks. 7 years of anniversary dates, such as when I discovered I was pregnant, when we were told she was a girl (although I always knew in my heart she was), when we left her in that little white box at a cemetery. 7 years of mothering her legacy.
It seems like you blink and the years just flicker by.
With 7 years, I have come to the place of learning what it means to be Lily's mommy. I have learned how to love her in the ways I can on Earth. I have learned that the pain doesn't always cut as deeply as those first months and years. It truly does become a dull ache that is just a part of you. Etched into the core of your heart and soul.
For those who are early on in the days of missing their baby, know that the heart-wrenching pain eases up. But don't ever let someone fool you into thinking it goes away, if that it *should* go away in order to be "properly healed." You can carry on and have a beautiful and purposeful life, enriched in many ways *because of* your sweet baby. But there will always be that dull ache, that yearning for what might have been, that "haunting of a lifetime of wonder."
The longing and wonder have become familiar companions. I wonder who my darling Lily-girl would be today, in the 1st grade and approaching 7-years-old. I picture myself at that age and how many memories I have from before age 7, and realize just how much life she should have already lived.
She is a beautiful mystery, to be discovered one day when I see her again.
7 years of the Lord carrying me.
The wonder of who she'd be and what life with her would be like haunts, but the wonder that I feel as I marvel at the miracle of her life and legacy follows me too, and that is a great, great joy. 💕💕💕