Sometimes we say things only because they sound right. I’ve said, “Now that Marigold is here, I couldn’t imagine losing her!” But that is just not true. I can imagine. And I do every day.

Tonight I had a bath with Marigold, Nathan put on her jammies and I fed her as we rocked in her nursery, until she drifted off to sleep. She is 94 days old today. When we put Eden down on day 94 it was the last time we saw her alive. I’ve been so captivated by Marigold’s “aliveness” these days. If she’s awake, she is moving. Kicking, awkwardly waving her arms, looking around, sticking out her tongue. There is a vastness between a baby alive and… not alive. Yet it is also paper thin. Gone in an instant. How can the gap be closed so quickly when the distance seems so great? The last grain of sand fell in Eden’s tiny hourglass, and that was that.

I didn’t anticipate how difficult this milestone would be. Her birthday we remembered the happy day she came into this world, and the anniversary of her death we honored her by hiking at Mt Baker. I didn’t allow myself to feel the depths of grief on the anniversary of her death, I felt like I had a job to do. Looking back I know how silly that seems, my job is to grieve, regardless of what it looks like.

This is a milestone that we will never again experience, Marigold will never be this age again. This one hurts because it is my natural tenancy to hold on! I am finally able to articulated my feelings surrounding this. This 95 day milestone is painful because I haven’t thought past this stage with Marigold. This was what I yearned for. She is like Eden now, it is as if I have a part of her back. And like I wanted to hold onto Eden forever, I want so badly to hold on to this stage forever. But tomorrow the sun will come up, and Marigold will greet a new day that Eden did not.

When I was pregnant Nathan and I agreed that we only envisioned this baby #4 as Eden’s age, around 3 months old. It was hard to see passed that! I keep reminding myself that chances are I get to keep this one! Part of me expects everything to be ripped from me all over again. So now that the day is upon us, she is here, alive to see another day- I am yet again pulled in 2 opposing directions. Marigold has been a reminder of what we had with Eden, but now we cross a threshold. Now, Marigold is a reminder of what we will never have with Eden, what was taken from us. And yes, Marigold is more to us than a reminder of Eden, far more. But it is still there, and it would be for anyone. (How can it not be?)

By nature, grief is many things, but for me it is largely 1. Lonely. 2. A sense of being stuck. This ‘stuckness’ is being challenged by this milestone. It is forcing me to live outside my comfort of nostalgia. I want to keep Marigold 3 months forever, because Eden will forever be 3 months old. In short, I am being dragged out of my stuckness and I don’t like it.

As I said earlier, Nathan put Marigold’s jammies on tonight and he chose a brand new pair. Lilac purple with the word “Love” printed all over it. I know he just grabbed the closest one to him, but I couldn’t help but draw the parallels. Eden was the lilac baby, and the last time I held her in our home, I couldn’t stop saying I love you. I must have said it 300 times. I wanted her to steep in it, for my love to permeate through her skin and into her soul. I love you I love you, I couldn’t say it enough. Does she know how much I love her? I need her to know.

Today I was faced with death yet again. My Grandpa is closing in on his last days on Earth. He hasn’t been able to talk lately, and for the past few days he wasn’t responsive. I asked for his wife’s cell number so I could text her a message I wanted her to read to him when he seemed conscious enough. As I tearfully wrote my goodbye message to him, the phone rang and it was Arlene, his wife! I must have called her by accident and she was returning the call! She told me that his eyes were wide open and that I could talk to him on speaker!

What an odd feeling to know that it is nearing the end. It isn’t a time to hold back, so I didn’t dare. I recanted every memory I could think of with him in it. I told him I was proud that he is my Grandpa. He has been faithful and obedient his whole life, and it has directly and indirectly set the course for my life! Lastly, I told him that Eden would be waiting for him when he enters the Kingdom. Grandma will be holding her, and a large group of them will reunite and tour him around his new eternal home. I told him how jealous I was, that he will be able to hold her and kiss her before I do. I could hear his faint responses “Yes, yes.”

Tomorrow is 95 days, and part of me hopes that after a long and honorable life, I will get the news that Grandpa is not longer in pain, and currently holding Eden by the hand as she shows off her heavenly home.

For death has lost it’s sting.