It would shock me when she did that. Katie also "knew". She kept asking me everyday "Are you SURE there isn't a baby in your tummy???". Because we didn't know exactly what was wrong from the 12 week appointment to the 16 week appointment, I answered in the negative because I didn't want them to attach to a sibling to have them just taken away. That all changed though when we found out Gracie didn't have much time left. I wanted them to be able to have that connection and to have as much time as possible with her. Once we told them, Katie went into high-gear, older sister protective mode. She would cuddle with Gracie (my tummy) as much as she could/I could handle. She would talk to her and sing to her. We played Barbies with Gracie. Blocks, couch forts, play dough, painting, bedtime stories and so much more. Things we would have done with her had we been able to bring her home. To us though, it seemed that Kotah didn't quite understand. Even when Gracie was born, I still didn't think she got it. When we buried Gracie she waved good-bye as the dirt covered her coffin and said "Bu Bye Gweecie." It was tender, it was cute, but I still didn't think she understood, or that her age allowed for her to understand what had happened. One night, shortly after, she patted my tummy and said "No bebe. Bebe all gone." And then she touched my heart and my head and said "Bebe here", and I thought, maybe she gets it more that I do.
As the weeks have passed by, whenever we go to the cemetery to visit Gracie, Kotah is always excited and squeals "Gweeeeeeeeeecieeeeeeee!" And after playing around with all the flowers and decorations on her grave, will run off to see other grave decorations. There are no expectations to grief. Especially for a 2 year old. I had figured that as she gets older and as we remember Gracie, she will want to have ways to remember being involved, even if she doesn't quite seem like it right now. So we have involved her in everything. The girls each have a "lovey" made out of scraps from Gracie's blanket. They each have dolls, bears, blankets. They each painted pictures for her, with her. They each have pictures of them holding her. Katie cherishes hers. Kotah could care less right now, but it wont always be this way. So I planned for the time when she will feel the loss and want to feel a connection to her sister.
That time came, in a sense, today.
To preface, the past few days she has been increasingly more aware of things that are associated with Gracie. Our Gracie bear she is wanting to hold more. The necklaces that Ty and I have she is constantly pulling at and saying over and over "Gweecie. Gweecie." As I have started a service project making little booties to donate for other angel babies (more on that to come in another post) she will grab them once they are done and try to hide them and yell "My Gweecie's! My Gweecie's sooooes! (shoes)". I was starting to think that she was coming upon a greater understanding and was experiencing the grief that comes with that.
And then, this afternoon she came and lifted up my shirt and patted my belly and said in a very concerned tone "Gweecie? Ah you in dwere? Bebe Gweecie?! GWEECIE???!!! Weh ah you??" She started bawling. My broken heart went on to break some more. I told her that Gracie was with Jesus. She yelled "No! I wan Bebe Gweecie!" Through her tears, she held out her hands and said "You cuddle me?" I pulled her close and rocked her back and forth. As I struggled with what to say, she suddenly perked right up and started playing peek-a-boo and wanted to rough house. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had just more fully realized her loss.
I think that is what it is like, for little children. We talk about short attention spans and really, they are just so present. So focused on the moment. And sometimes, little children can only handle the intensity of emotional pain for a certain amount of time. They are true to their emotions that they understand in the moment. They feel. But only as much as they can handle at a time.
Adults too, I think. There are moments when I just have to sit and cry. And cry and cry. And then I smile at something. I laugh. I take a deep breath and move on from the moment. (Although my moments are usually longer than that.) It doesn't mean I am done grieving. It doesn't mean I am over it. It just means I am taking it one moment at a time. Kotah is too. I am sure this isn't the only time she will grieve. And just because she didn't sit in her grief for forever does it mean she is over it. And just because it isn't obvious to me doesn't always mean she can't understand.
She does.
Sisters
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