A lot has happened since I last wrote. I don’t want this blog to just be an update of my life and what I’m doing, so I won’t go into a lot of detail. just to say it’s been times of stress and growing.

I finally went to my daughters grave last week. I took my son with me so I wouldn’t have a complete breakdown. He’s my sunshine more than I realize sometimes. He pulls me back. We went and bought flowers (because isn’t that what you do when you visit a grave??), and cookies because I wanted cookies, and I wanted my son to associate this time at her grave as a happy memory. I let him help me pick out the flowers and cookies, saying “which do you want to bring to baby Rose?”

We went out there, and even though there were people close, some even sitting in their car which was awkward, it was peaceful. We sat down next to her plaque. I pointed it out to Judah, and he touched her plaque saying “Baby Rose.” We spelled her name together. I sat and enjoyed the sun and cried as I loved on my two children in the only way I knew how. Judah played with rocks, and we talked about another baby there that had a “Happy Birthday” sign. “Today’s that baby’s birthday! Let’s sing happy birthday baby.” and we did.

Am I doing this right? I have no idea. It feels so weird bringing my child into this life, where dead babies are normal. Where children die but we still talk about them and say their names like they are real, because they are. Where I tell him about his sister like she’s a part of him too. She has a relationship with him, and he needs to know that.

I saw a picture the other day that said “Something in me died that day.” Some days I feel that, I feel like I’m missing something that I’ll never get back. Some days I feel like I got that piece back but it’s so totally different that it’s made me a different person. Not totally, just like something significant has shifted. I work so so hard every day to make sure that person is stable and healthy, that she’s speaking truth and love to everyone, because life is too short.

I don’t know how life will be when Judah gets older. Will he refuse to go see Rose and break my heart? Will he want to see her on days I’m not able to handle that. Will he talk about her too much one day and cause me to breakdown and cry in bed all day? Will he warm my heart talking about her like she’s real, bringing me peace and comfort? Will he never speak about her in the future? These are all risks. It’s all a big risk. I choose to talk about her, because I want him to know. I want him to grow up with her name in his head. Maybe that’s selfish, maybe it’s responsible. Maybe every parent is always screwing up there kids in some way. Maybe all that really matters is they know we love them and will never leave them, and then prove that daily.

We will continue to bring flowers and cookies to my daughter. Because I can’t have her with me and I need to touch the ground that holds her every night.

-Lindsay Juarez

Originally posted here: What Rose Taught Me