cherishing katie still, always

Kaitlyn Cristina Jones would be 10 years old today...

years do not remove the heartache or pain, it is as real and alive as though it happened today. but then, i don't think i would want the sadness to lessen - for that might mean forgetting. or letting go. that would be worse. the need for this childs existence to be recognized is very real, very raw, and ever so strong.

the day we learned the baby i was carrying was a girl was the day we named her. from then on, throughout the entire pregnancy (which was full term) she was known as Katie Girl.

but after her silent birth people - loved family & friends even - started referring to her as "the baby".

why?

why couldn't they say her name? what were they afraid of?

katie died because of a congentive heart defect - her 4 chambers were not 4 seperate chambers but 2 large areas...not condusive to life.

the million dollar question is always: how, why, was her heartbeat nothing but strong & regular at every check up?

because a broken heart is still a heart.

she was also determined to be down syndrome. neither of these things were noticed during the pregnancy, and i guess i am glad they weren't. she lived her entire existence inside of my body. and then she went to heaven - where i imagine she waits for me and the rest of our unruly family to one day meet her, hold her.

there is no other feeling like the movement of an unborn child. it's closer than someone touching you from the outside.

who knew that last little kick the day before meant good bye? that there would be death before her first breath?

i never held her in my arms...

or felt her softness...

or counted her toes...

craig did these things...

i was afraid...

i might never have let her go...

i don't even know the color of her eyes...

were they blue like mine?

or brown like her daddy's?

a mother should know...

i can only wonder...

9 months of anticipation...

picking out a crib & pretty pink clothes...

only to be replaced by a tiny white casket.