Wishes For Everyone

Miranda, like any five-year-old, makes wishes all the time. She whispers her dreams when we throw a penny into a fountain or when she blows on a dandelion freshly plucked from the grass.

Up until recently, her wishes have been for a "real live unicorn" and "a pet jaguar." In the last few weeks, her wishes have changed.

Now my daughter wishes for Allie to come back to life. She thinks if Allie was here with us, she would like Miranda the best. She's probably right.

Lately, she also wishes for all the people that have died to come back to life and to never again die.

At five, she is just as comfortable talking about death as she is life.

Honestly, she talks about her sister more than we do. Today she wanted to go to her creek to bring her a fresh flower. The other day she asked me what grade she would be in this year if she were here. She also asks me often when we are celebrating her birthday.

I wish I had two daughters starting school next week. Not just one.

I wish I had two daughters sitting in the tub right now. Not just one.

By definition, a wish is to feel or express a strong desire or hope for something that is not easily attainable; want something that cannot or probably will not happen.

Well you can guess what I think about that!

And yet, it's ok to wish. It's good to dream. I think it's healthy to want something that's unattainable. It's a good lesson. I just wish that lesson was not at the expense of my first child.

A rainbow baby was born to a friend of mine a few short days ago. I was miles away when I heard the news, and yet I broke down in tears. Happy tears. Tears of relief. To have a rainbow baby is so so sweet. I am thrilled my friend will be able to experience that joy.

I am going to take this opportunity to wish for a few things that I think can come true. An easy transition to kindergarten for Miranda and her friends next week. A happy and joyous start to the school year for all the kids. More rainbow babies for the moms and dads that so desperately want them.  Blessed memories of the babies that wear wings. 

Maybe some wishes can come true after all. But so help me if I wake up to a real live unicorn in my house tomorrow!!

Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

I chose this quote from Muhammad Ali for two reasons. One - we love all things butterfly in this house. Two - it's a quote about competition and my topic today is competition.

You see, my living daughter is in competition with my dead one.

Ouch, huh?

Miranda is jealous that we have a picture of Allie's feet hanging up near our fireplace. The feet make an image of a heart, and it's the only photo of Allie that we have displayed. And yet Miranda feels threatened by it.

Miranda is jealous that we see butterflies and think of her sister. She wants to be the butterfly. She has even told me on more than one occasion that she wished we named her Butterfly, instead of Miranda. Um, no.

Is it that we talk to much about the daughter we lost? To be honest, I do not think we do. Is it that Miranda is envious that someone came before her? I could see that as she got older, but not at five. I do not care how precocious she is!

Where does this sense of envy come from? And why does she feel that there is a competition?

Last night at dinner, Miranda glanced over at the picture of Allie's feet and asked why we did not have a picture of her feet framed. I explained that we only had a limited time with Allie and that image was one of our favorites. I went on to say that we are lucky enough to have enough time with Miranda that we can take all the photos we want. We do not need to have an image of her feet. We have her face beaming back at us from pretty much every wall in this house.

She paused and then asked me why M gave her away? WHAT THE WHAT? I guess the adoption talk did resonate. Why, though, was it only talking about Allie's death that she questioned where she came from? I calmly explained that M did not give her away. She picked Gary and me to be her parents because she knew we could provide the kind of life for her that she deserved. A family with a mommy and a daddy. Her own room. The chance to go to preschool and meet friends and get a head-start on learning. Cousins. Extended family. Vacations. And so much more. That seemed to satisfy her for now.

I love that Miranda is so thirsty for knowledge, both in the classroom and out. I wonder, though, how much what happened before she was even born is going to shape her? And why is she in a competition with someone who clearly cannot compete back?

Both of my girls are so special to me. My heart is bursting with love for each one. Different love, of course. Allie's love is that of a proud parent who feels a surge when she gets the opportunity to talk about her. Miranda's love is that of an actively parenting adult who gets to see her daughter interact with new kittens, get her tiny ears pierced, and prepare for kindergarten. (And that was all just last week!).

I do not want to sell either of them short, and I want to make sure I am doing right by them both. In a way, I want them both to float and neither to ever sting.

Time will surely help me figure out how to keep explaining life to the one while remembering and honoring the other one in death.

What a tangled path I walk on every day. It's a wonder I don't trip more.