She Never Will

December 6, 2010.... the dreaded day when I had to leave the hospital empty handed.  They wheeled me out to the car and popped the trunk to put in Rachel's memories and I caught a glimpse of the car seat that we brought "just in case she beat the odds."  There are no words to describe what I felt at that moment.

One day short of 3 weeks later, I received what in this post I referred to as my "best Christmas gift ever" - Rachel's social security number.  I forgot, until I read that post today, that just before the funeral home left with her, the woman from medical records told me that I would get a ss card in the mail for her.  I was so excited I yelled "she's getting a number?!" and everyone cheered.  It was a happy moment in my sorrow... she was alive and they were acknowledging it - And at a time when I was dealing with the pain of my first Christmas without her... it came just 2 days before Christmas.

The next time I was pushed in a wheel chair was on November 15, 2011 and I made sure to capture the memory...

This was just 2 hours after Asa was born and they were moving me to the Mother and Baby floor - a floor I never went to after Rachel.  When I sat down in that wheelchair and they put my baby in my arms, two things happened....I was finally released from the anticipation over whether this moment would ever come to be; overwhelmed with gratitude for a safe delivery and a healthy, live baby.... and I saw the vision of the car seat in the trunk flash through my mind.  That picture will always be etched in my memory as clear as if I were looking at a photograph.

As they rolled me down the halls, I held him close as I felt my eyes fill up with tears.  I didn't dare to look up for fear that my ride with my baby might bring another mama without hers pain.

Today, 3 weeks later, I opened my mailbox to find an envelope addressed to Asa Francisco Aube.... his social security card.  I stood there staring at it for what felt like a while.  I looked over at him, sleeping in his little hammock.  I saw his chest rise and as he breathed the air back out, he let out a squeaky sigh and squirmed around in that newborn way.

And all I could think about was Rachel... her number... the day I opened the letter addressed to Rachel Alice Aube and the excitement it brought to me.  I remember exactly where I stood when I opened it, everything about that moment.  I thought about the idea that someday he'll sign his card....but she never will.  Someday he'll use it to open a bank account, to buy a house, on his marriage license, on his children's birth certificates....  she never will. 

I sank my face into my hands and cried. 

I know she's not missing out on anything here, but I can't help but be reminded of all I'm missing out on without her.  However, even in these moments when I'm so heart broken over all the "could-have-been," as her mama, I'm still thankful that it's me who feels this pain and that she never will.