Isaiah 41:10

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed , for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

It has been awhile since I've written anything. My husband reminded me of this recently. I think it's just as therapeutic for him as it is for me. I'm hoping that by doing so today, I will feel a little better. I have been feeling more than dismayed some days (i'm not sure of the accurate word to describe it other than how it's stated in the above verse). I miss my daughter. I miss getting to know her like we've gotten to know Cole and watching her grow. I read a lot about heaven and people's heavenly experiences when they've had near death experiences. I find peace in those kinds of stories. Somedays it seems like Cole either sees his sister or has an awareness of her presence. A couple of weeks ago he was playing on our bed, and suddenly he stopped, saw Olivia's blanket (which I never let him touch) and said "baby" and pointed. Other days he'll be with us and all of a sudden look in a different direction like something caught his attention and say "hi" or "ang-el". He also points to her baby picture up on the wall and says baby or angel. I have to believe in his ability to be aware of what adults may not be able to see or feel. It gives me hope that someday he'll just come out and say to us that he sees her. He can be our own little medium, with a direct connection to Olivia.
Also on my mind is my inability to just be happy. When I do have moments of feeling happy, I feel bad for this. Any happy occasions are clouded with the thought that whatever the occasion is, we're missing a very special little girl.
 I have to share my experience after a difficult day last week. I was driving home from a quick trip to the grocery store, by myself. The sun was setting. I really wish I had a picture to show what my words can't do justice. I was really noticing how the sky in front of me, was bright, with clouds around it, the sun was beaming through this area of clouds down towards the ground almost as an entry way. The rest of the sky was very blah and gray. I said out loud through my tears "I want to be there." In response, I could hear "very soon child". I am not a morbid person, although it may sound that way. There is a huge part of my life missing here, and I can't wait for the day to have all the missing pieces together. If you ever walk through a cemetery you'll be made sadly aware of how many people lose children, of all ages. With how many people bury their babies, I wonder how some people don't have faith in a better life after here.