Category Archives: The Angel Days

The Third of June

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I made my way down the steep, overgrown trail that leads down to the creek, taking extra precautions not to wreck my aging knees. I used to come down here regularly, outfitted with creek boots and my water color paints. It was food for my soul, as I basked in nature’s resplendence, surrounded by bird songs and the trickling creek water that I used for my painting. I didn’t bring my paints with me this time, but I was hoping for more of that same reprieve today. I needed it. As I inched my way down the hill, I recalled the time I brought Nora down here, portable oxygen tank and all. As I recalled, it was a crisp fall day, which of course called for her little fleece vest. And if she’d had some little tiny creek boots, she certainly would have had those on too. (Could you even imagine??) (Cute.) 

I tiptoed across the creek rocks and made my way over to the slab of limestone where I remembered we had sat. And just to make sure I hadn’t dreamt it, I went back to the blog I had written about it, which of course included pictures:

October, 2012

…. I looked up at the patches of blue sky through the tops of the trees and smiled, “Thank you for this, God. Thank you!!!” 

——————————-

So there I sat in the exact same spot, 4,600-something days later with the gravity of this memory heavy on my heart. However, those same words of gratitude are still on my lips. She was so worth every ounce of the pain that remains. I’ll carry it with honor until my very own last breath, holding true to my promise to her from the very, very beginning, “I will carry you.”

Amidst my moment of sorrowful gratitude, I watched as a trio of robins splashed around in a shallow pool of the creek — enjoying bird baffs. Lovely little wild flowers, here also for just a short season.

My dear friend Tamara shared this reel with me recently. It’s by a band called Colony House. The speaker’s words sum up this day of grief so beautifully:

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1QzvCN5Dyc/?mibextid=wwXIfr

In case that link doesn’t function properly, it says this, “Seventeen years ago today, me and Will’s little sister, Maria, passed from this life and into the next. It’s something we haven’t addressed much, at least deliberately as a band. But her story is woven into the fabric of every single Colony House album in one way or another. And I imagine it will always be that way. In the past, May 21st has been a day on the calendar that, if given the choice, any Chapman would gladly erase or at least skip right over. If you’re someone whose grief has a day attached to it, maybe you understand what I mean. But, unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. 

Every year, you have to wake up on that day and decide what to make of it. Or, honestly, wait and see what the day will make of you. There was a moment a few days after Maria’s passing, where I felt like I was given a vision, or at least a moment in the midst of the storm where the clouds opened up long enough for me to see something I hadn’t before. It wasn’t a hologram, or a burning bush, or some deep low voice. Just a mental picture of someone standing in front of a gigantic painting — like, enormous. The canvas was stretched to the heavens, and as far as the eye could see. And here was this person standing with their nose, literally touching the canvas — trying to make sense of what the image could be. And it didn’t make sense. It just looked like a blur of colors and random brush strokes, violent and out of place with no point. 

The person then took a step back. 

They took another step

and another step. 

With each step back, the painting made more and more sense, like small pieces of it began to come into focus. Like the further away this person got from the canvas, the more all these random, blurry shapes and colors came to life. 

In that moment, I think I realized that this painting or this life will never fully make sense on this side of eternity. But with every year that passes, we step further away from this canvas and closer to the day where it all comes into focus. The day we’re with our little sister again, we finally get to see the masterpiece in full.”

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

(Eclesiastes 3:1)

Happy Birthday, Nornor

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Here it is Nora’s birthday. I’m waking up in the wee hours of the morning in this spare bedroom / catch-all room that was supposed to have been hers. Unable to sleep last night, I decided to try out a different bed. The closet of this room is still jam packed with all of her things I still can’t bear to part with, and the shelves and walls are decorated with miscellaneous trinkets and memories. If the path of life had gone a different way, if there were no extra chromosomes to speak of, she would have been waking up in this room, excitedly remembering that it was her birthday. Maybe I would have let her stay home from school today so we could do something fun, maybe go to the zoo. Or maybe she’d insist on going to school to hand out the cupcakes we might have made the night before. She would have been 13, they tell me. I never bother to do the math because as far as I’m concerned she’s always 2. And since she was profoundly disabled, I don’t usually have all of the imaginings of what would have been the typical milestones over the passing of each year. She’s always 2, with chubby cheekies,  double chinnies, knee muffins, and the most squeezable little baby bum. 

I do recognize, however, that instead of this being a day of typical little girl birthday celebrations – it will likely unfold as “just another Thursday.” William and Gavin are about to get up for a day of work. I’ll lay awake here for a little while longer listening to the running shower, the creaking of the stairs, the breakfast dishes, coat zippers, the thump of work boots being put on, the rattling of keys, slamming doors, the disarming of car alarms, and the starting engines, before it’s silence again. Just me and the cats and the distant hum of rush hour traffic of this cold spring morning. Maybe I’ll fall back asleep, maybe I’ll get up to fix my own breakfast, vacuum the house, put away laundry, clean out the litter box, put away dishes and run errands — all the little unremarkable, mundane things that go into running a household on a typical Thursday. Depending on the weather, maybe I’ll go for a walk. The same walks I used to push her stroller along, peeking over the side every so often just to look at her sweet little face. 

Later…

The day unfolded pretty much exactly as I imagined it would. I did squeeze in a visit to the cemetery. I brought a little vase of flowers and some heart shaped rocks from my collection. I sat there for a little while thinking about her, missing her and wishing I could still kiss her and sniff her sweet skin. I looked around to make sure I was completely by myself and then wound up Nora’s favorite Happy Birthday music box. (Let’s be honest … a music box playing in a cemetery probably rates pretty highly on the creepy scale 😬🤷🏼‍♀️) As the last of the notes slowed down and eventually stopped, I collected my things and headed back to the car.

I glanced back at her headstone, whispered that I love her, and said goodbye to her neighbor Ali Nunnery. I headed back through the narrow cemetery roads toward the exit when I saw a familiar truck heading in my direction… “No way…” Meanwhile, William is heading down the hill and sees a familiar car headed in HIS direction, and is also thinking, “No way…” We both cautiously glanced into each other’s vehicles as we were about to pass each other— no easy task through William’s Limo Tint — and realized it really was “each other!” We rolled down the windows and both expressed our mutual “what the hecks!” “Did you know I was here??” “No!” “Did you know I was here??” “No!!” 

I turned my car around and followed William’s truck back up the hill to Section 41, back to the beautiful pink heart headstone that belongs to the little girl who left a huge imprint on this earth. She must’ve wanted her MomminDad visiting her together. 

Happy birthday, Stinky Cakes. You’re forever missed and loved. We celebrate you today and always, our lives deeply enriched for having known you.

Happy Easter, everyone! 💗💗💗

June

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June 2

I sat out on the front porch stoop this evening and watched the billowy clouds well up with magnificent pinks and oranges. I leaned back onto the door, inhaling and exhaling as the lively pink disappeared. The day was over and gone. June 2nd was Nora’s last sunset before her own little life ended just an hour and a half past midnight, officially June 3rd.

In a sense, the June 2nds are worse than the June 3rds. Try as I might to forget, I am still very much aware of everything we were faced with on June 2nd, 2014. The dull ache that feels lodged between my lungs and constricts my heart was born that night. It was as if someone had cut me open and poured large rocks into my chest, sewed me back up and sent me off on my way to try and make the best of things. Couldn’t breathe, everything ached, physically and emotionally. It was hard to even get up. The leading up to that new state of being is painful.

Eventually I’ve adapted to the discomfort, the inconvenience, the unpredictability and the complexity. I gradually built new muscles to endure the weight. And now here I am these 10 years later, chest still filled with the proverbial rocks and gravel. It’s not any lighter, easier or comfortable — but it’s familiar. I know it well.

Ten years ago sounds absolutely absurd because the pain is still so fresh. Certainly it would have diminished more than this by now?! But I don’t wish it away either. It’s all I have left. The weight of grief replaces the weight of her chubby little body in my arms. I’ll carry it with endurance, with hope and with honor because I loved her and I always will.

June 3

Greta and I paid a visit to the cemetery this afternoon. It made us giggle to see that someone had placed “Nora” in a nest and then placed it in the heart of her headstone.

She certainly loved her “nest” while she was here. Such sweet imagery! Thank you to whoever did that! And her headstone was all polished and clean. Thank you so very much for that as well. It makes my heart feel so full to know that Nora is still loved and thought of all these years later by others as well.

Much love to all! – Aleisa

Part 2

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I felt that this was deserving of another blog post because it absolutely took my breath away.

Greta had spent the night at home last night so we could all be together as a family and celebrate Nora’s birthday. I brought her back to her dorm up at UC this morning, and wished her luck on her critique today! (She is closing in on her freshman year in DAAP studying Fashion Design.)

When I returned home, I noticed a car parked out in front of our house with a man standing outside of it. He was obviously waiting for someone. Me? I waved hello and pulled into the garage. He stayed standing in front of his car, so I assumed maybe he was here for one of the neighbors, or waiting for someone else? I wasn’t really sure.

I peeked out the front window once I got inside, and THIS IS WHAT I SAW:

41 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GASP!!!! Are you kidding me??? THIS number!!!????? I can’t recall if I’ve “recently” elaborated about this number here in the blog or otherwise — so as a refresher: We. see. this. number. EVERYWHERE. I started seeing it when I was pregnant with Nora. I’d wake up out of my sleep, the digital clock would read 41 after any random hour. It happens regularly when I’m getting out of the shower (that I don’t usually take at any specific time). Or it is the arrival time on GPS, many multiple times a week, sometimes within the same day — way more often than not. It is the time stamp on receipts. It is the dollar or cent amount on receipts — sometimes both. When this first started happening, it kinda freaked me out. I was 39 when Nora was born. My 40’s were on the imminent horizon. “Is something going to happen to me when I’m 41???” I’d worry. June 7, 2014. Yes, I guess you could say so. I shared my 41st birthday with Nora’s funeral and celebration of life — not that I minded. What else was I going to be doing. The coinciding of life and death must take on a beautiful meaning on the other side, whereas down here it does seem a bit cruel. I know of many instances of loved ones, especially babies passing on or around their mother’s or other family members’ birthdays.

Shortly after Nora passed away, I was going through some paperwork from the cemetery. It should have come as no surprise to discover that she was buried in SECTION 41.

One of the most memorable 41 incidents was while I was at one of Gavin’s track meets a few years ago. I took my phone out of my pocket to look at the time. Just as I saw it was 1:41, a boy ran right past me yelling to someone, “NORA!!!!!!!” 🤯

The timing of today’s very blatant “41” was impeccable. AND, If you zoom in on the picture, my friend Maggie pointed out that there are THREE BIRDS (eagles!) at the top of his windshield!

After I collected myself, I went back outside to pull some weeds and maybe talk to this man. At the risk of sounding and looking like a crazy lady (as I still hadn’t showered or bothered to brush my hair) – I had to tell him!

Well… he didn’t speak English. However, he got out Google translate on his phone and explained to me that he was waiting for the rest of his crew and that they were here to work in our backyard. I think he thought I was questioning why he was out front. I got out my Google translate and explained,

He put his hand on his heart and expressed his condolences, and was obviously touched by what I’d shared with him.

I just had to share this sweet incident, and also make mention of the fact that our lilac bushes bloomed yesterday. With the windows opened they are smelling up the whole house with their beautiful fragrance — a dear parallel to Norns who also permeated our house and our hearts with her sweetness.

Here are some other 41s that are worth sharing:

41 … FOR ONE. I love this one so very much!!!
This was on our way up to Michigan one year back when gas was cheap!
A birthday 41!
I just missed the reading of 4:41 arrival with 2:41 hours to go
A heavenly sprinkling!
TRIPLE 41!!!!
Greta found this one in the magazine scraps during a school project. A magazine cover from Spring / Summer of 2012 (when Nora was born) featuring the Mackinac Bridge (the bridge to our favorite place) – and 41 Warm Weather Getaways!!

I wish I could share all of them, but I realize don’t nobody have time for that. There are literally thousands of photos!!

That’s all! 😆 Much love! 💗

Happy Birthday to Norns!

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Twelve years ago, Nora was just minutes old, as I write this. Up until the moment I heard the beautiful sound of her first cries, I had no idea if she was going to be born alive. We opted not to have any fetal monitoring during labor and delivery, because I imagined it might kill me to know if her sweet heart had stopped beating. It seems surreal to think back to those moments, remembering how absolutely terrified I was. Suddenly there we were with this teeny tiny little baby, and she was ALIVE!! Her naked little body pressed up against my skin, her tiny heart and lungs fighting like mad to adapt to life outside of me. I had no idea what was around each corner from minute to minute. Every little breath she took, I worried would be her last. I could not imagine what the next day, week or year held, and I certainly couldn’t imagine that I’d be sitting here exactly 12 years later, 12 years older reflecting on the beautiful life of Nora Rose that had unfolded and bloomed for a time with such radiance. For just a little over 2 years we got to hold her, kiss her, love her, bathe her, feed her, vacation with her, swim with her, experience holidays with her, go on walks with her, hug her and squeeze her (sometimes a little too hard which would maker her cough in protest!)(“Kelly!!!”). It is all so fresh in my mind that it seems like just yesterday – but then I look back at the pictures and see how young we looked, and how little Gavin and Greta were … yes, it’s been a long time.

Time stands still for no one, but it has allowed me to become accustomed to the weight of heavy grief. It is forever a part of me, and I’m okay with that. It is all I have left of her. It is proof that she was here, and that I loved her (still love her) madly. We’re older and grayer, the big kids are all grown up. So much has changed, but Nora is still a huge part of our family. We still see hearts and 41s all over the place. We talk about her every day. We still occasionally see the trios of birds when we need the reminder that everything is going to be alright. A couple of days ago, Gavin sent us this picture from the gym. He took a sip of water while on the treadmill and spilled some on his 41 shirt.

We’ve also had a couple of friends share their heart sightings this week, as well as a 4:17 screen shot that I missed by a couple of minutes this year! Thanks for catching that for me, Kim!!

Thank you everyone for the texts and the phone calls and for the beautiful bouquet of flowers from Gavin’s sweet girlfriend. It is so comforting to have Nora thought of and remembered on this bittersweet day.

Happy birthday, my sweet baby girl!

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

(1 Corinthians 13:13)

Happy Birthday, Norns!

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The hollow void in my heart is especially tender as the 17th of April approaches. It becomes increasingly harder to come up with things to blog about that haven’t already been said on past birthdays and anniversaries. We still miss her beyond belief, and these dates are still as tough as ever. My mind is saturated with a million still-fresh memories of sights, sounds, and smells. The chorus of birds as we left for the hospital on that cool early morning. The steady drone of the tires as they brought us closer and closer to the hospital. The squeeze of my husband’s reassuring hand, my other hand cradling my belly, illuminated by passing street lamps. She was still safe, cherished and protected— very much alive inside of me. I refused to think past that moment. All that mattered was “right here / right now.” Right here, right now she was alive and I loved her fiercely.

My favorite “right here / right now” moment came at 5:20pm of this day, 2012 when we heard the BEAUTIFUL sound of Nora’s first cries.

Then 5:21 … Kissing her sweet face, just so ecstatic, I could burst!

“Ummmw… hello? I’m Nora. I’m new here. Are you my mom n dyad?”

There were countless hills, dips, loops and turns on this wild, whiplashing, precious adventure we had just embarked upon. Over each increment of the way, we collected a treasury of favorite “right here / right nows” that we wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Last year I shared the sculpture I was creating in memory of Norns. It has been finished for quite some time, but decided to wait until her birthday rolled around again to do the official unveiling. So without further ado, I present “Nora”

Confession … It isn’t actually cast in bronze, as that ended up being way above and beyond my moneys!! But I think I did a pretty decent job of giving it a faux bronze finish! And unless I told you otherwise, you’d never know that there was another layer of paint under the faux bronze. The first paint job didn’t turn out exactly as I had imagined. It was a little too realistic and had taken on the characteristics of “creepy baby doll.”

Round 2 of paint turned out much better and brought Creepy Baby Doll back to Objet d’ Art. I gave it a base layer of black and then did separate dry brushings of brown, gold, and mint green over the black.

I attend an amazing sculpting class most Wednesday mornings that is about 40 minutes away – but so very worth the drive. I started this piece in mid-December of 2021 and finished on April 13th of last year, just in time for her birthday. During class one day the topic of conversation landed on some particular sculptures at the Cincinnati Art Museum. I had been to the Art Museum semi-recently with my friend Jim and had taken a photo of a sculpture that I thought was so beautiful. I decided to take a break from sculpting for a few minutes to go back through my photos to see if I happened to take a picture of one of these particular sculptures. I smiled as I found the picture in my camera roll, taken aback by the sculpture’s delicate beauty all over again.

I was glad to see that the description plaque was included in the photo. I hadn’t taken the time to read it while at the museum, so I wasn’t sure who the artist was. While the classroom conversation continued, I zoomed in on the plaque — then stood there frozen STARING at my phone, tears welling up in my eyes. “WHAT?!?!?” I whispered to myself, “NO. WAY.” I casually turned away and just let the tears flow down my cheeks, still staring at my phone through blurry tears.

THE ARTIST’S DAUGHTER, NORA?!?!??!?!!!!!

That was reason enough to have taken a photo of that sweet, beautiful sculpture – but I had no idea when I took it that this sweet little beauty was a Nora, and that she was the ARTIST’S DAUGHTER too!!! Too crazy to be coincidence.

It’s hard to imagine that this Nora would be 11 years old today. I have such a hard time envisioning her as anyone but the chunky, squeezable, delicious, fuzzy, baff and milkies loving two-year-old that she was when she left us. But here we are, still standing, all these years later.

We miss her and we celebrate her!

Today at the cemetery (Thank you for the beautiful YELLOW tulips, Robin & Ivy! I love you both!!!)
A little Bonbonerie cake for Norn’s party

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13 NIV)

April 17th

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This year Nora’s birthday coincided with Easter. The theme of new life and resurrection that came with Easter draped beautifully onto the celebration of Nora’s birth and life. I was glad to be reminded this morning by a dear friend that Nora too has risen! She is forever healed and forever safe! That was such a sweet thought to start my day off with. Much better than how I actually started my day. For some unknown reason, the second I opened my eyes I immediately began FREAKING OUT that it was Monday and that my family had done absolutely no preparation for all that Monday holds. Just as I was about to go blasting into everyone’s bedrooms at 100 mph to harshly wake them up at 5:30am – I slowly remembered that it was Sunday (!!!!! Ohhh!!!) …….. It was Easter……. Which meant that it was my sweet baby’s birthday……. And my other kids don’t have to hate me. I can breathe… for a minute. Sweet relief faded off as it made room for the bittersweet memories and all the thoughts that would spew forth every time I looked at a clock throughout the day. “At this time 10 years ago we were on our way to the hospital… At this time 10 years ago we were all waiting patiently to meet this baby… At this time 10 years ago we were holding our precious baby girl, our perfect mighty Nora…” The aftershocks of the terrifying unknowns can still be felt all these years later, but so can the fiery ignition of pure and extraordinary LOVE. That’s what I wanted to stay focused on today.

In the weeks and days leading up to Nora’s birthday, I got some very sweet “love notes from heaven” in the form of hearts, ladybugs and trios of birds, and some others.

While driving Greta home from school a few days ago we saw an Elanor license plate!! (Nora’s full name is Elanora)
Three Birds! 💗💗💗

Late morning on Saturday, I was out in the backyard pulling some weeds. I turned my head up to investigate the sudden overhead quacking. Then stood there awestruck as I watched the THREE DUCKS circle back and forth. THREEEEEE DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I ran in to get my phone to grab a picture – but missed the 3 of them together! I did manage to get this video of 3 turkey vultures a little while later. While I’m certain they’re not capable of singing any melodies pure and true, they are indeed THREE BIRDS, none the less!

Then on Saturday afternoon, (the day before Nora’s birthday) – we got “wind” of a Lantern Release THAT night only a few miles from our house. The event was called “Shine the Night” sponsored by The Best Day Ever Foundation. Without going off on a total tangent – – all I have to say right now is that I am in awe at how woven together our lives REALLY are. And it is just the coolest thing ever when you find those golden threads of connectedness! It was so nice, as a family, to have something beautiful and tangible to do in memory of Nora – on this day of all days!

Up, up, and away! ⭐️

Because Sunday was Easter, everyone was off work, and there weren’t any other obligations or priorities that took precedence. This smoothly facilitated having all of the extended family together at my parents’ house. My Mom made an amazing rouladen dinner, and then we sang “Happy Birthday” to Norns SEVERAL times – just as she would have liked, accompanied by her once favorite vintage hipster baby music box. We pre-ordered a beautiful lemon torte from the Bon Bonerie, and it was just as delicious as it was beautiful!

Norns Doll sporting Nora’s birthday hat
“It’s my borned day hat!”
Birthday decorations
William wore his special cuff links
4:17 on 4/17 – caught “by chance” AGAIN!

Earlier in the day, between church and Nora’s party, we paid a visit to the cemetery. We filled “Nora’s heart” with pretty spring flowers and sang happy birthday to her… several times….

Pretty flowers on Norn’s grave

Back in August of last year I started taking a sculpting class. I knew I’d be good at it as I’ve knocked out some pretty cool sand sculptures over the years. I’d never really sculpted in clay though, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I am just finishing up my 2nd clay sculpture that I started at the end of December. I have really kind of surprised myself!

And now in conclusion of this blog post, l and in sweet memory of Nora Rose, I would like to unveil my ALMOST finished sculpture of Lady Baby herself ~

I hope to someday have her cast in bronze.
Wispies!

Happy birthday, my sweet little love! We all miss you so much! Thanks for the pretty rainbow tonight!

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)

June 3

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I am fully aware of my desperate attempts to forget. I don’t want to think about the horribleness of where we were 7 long years ago. I don’t want to think about her vital signs monitor that we’d so hopefully stared at for 15 sleepless days and nights — now dark. Turned off. I don’t want to think about how she rubbed her arm across her itchy little nose one last time. Or the sound of her last breath while a lullaby rendition of a Journey song tinkled softly in the background. I don’t want to remember hospital smells. I don’t want to think about any of it – yet it is inescapable. No amount of staring mindlessly at my phone, or cleaning and organizing and straightening things will make it go away. Each year I brace myself, try to somehow make it more “comfortable” and never can. A lot like labor pains. Ain’t NUTHIN you can do to make those come on a little easier or gentler. And sometimes you say mean things, and you can’t think straight. It’s hard to think or care about anything or anyone else because F*#K!!!!!! This. Hurts. There is absolutely nothing to do but weather through each grief contraction. And they’re very strong this time of year.

Just as in childbirth, each “contraction” is one step closer to holding that baby in my arms. I know with every fiber of my being and all of the love and hope in my heart that I will see and hold Nora again. God has given me glimpses and hints of what that will be like through the physical births of each of my four children, and then especially through the euphoric reunion with my birth daughter 10 whole years ago. THAT, amplified. We will ALL experience that someday with the ones we’ve loved and lost. Breathe through the pain, stay focused. No, it’s not so easy – but I try.

Today in memory of Nora, I donated blood, which I do regularly. I will be forever grateful for the blood donor who gave us some extra time with our sweet Lade. I also visited the cemetery. I cleaned off her pretty headstone and played her favorite song on her hipster baby music box.

“Happy Birthday” on the day you were born in to heaven, my sweet baby girl. My heart aches for you. Lots of hearts ache for you. You profoundly touched so many lives, and continue to do so many years after you’ve left us. What a legacy you’ve left behind. I breathe through and endure the pain of your loss. I know it will all be worth it someday. Thank you for being such a special part of our family, always and forever, sweet Stinky Cakes. Mommy loves you.

Birthday Baby

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I think I’ve spent the past 7 birthdays fretting over how best to celebrate, commemorate and acknowledge such an important baby while simultaneously grieving that she’s not here with us. I don’t just mean “important” because she’s MY baby and I’ve experienced that profound maternal love for her. She really was important to so many people. Every so often I step back, slack jawed at the masses of people that became captivated with her story, her sweetness and her extraordinary personality. She touched A LOT of lives.

I think for the most part, we have adjusted to life without Nora’s physical presence, but that is not to imply that it is easy. We talk about her and think about her every single day. She still is and always will be very much a part of our family.

In the days leading up to and on what would have been Nora’s 9th birthday (WHAT?!?), I received some pretty amazing winks from heaven. The first were the 3 geese that flew over the highway and right “through” a rainbow spot in the sky as I was about to pass the cemetery. Were I not driving I would have tried to have taken a photo. But perhaps that was one of those winks that was meant for only me to see. The next happened again while I was driving, but I had to circle back and get a picture — because I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I was driving along, thinking about Nora. I audibly sighed, “I miss you, baby girl.” At that EXACT moment, I glanced over and saw a tenant panel of a sign that said, “MILK & BEANS”

My eyes flooded with tears. I imagined us talking for her in her voice, “Dat place sounds kinda nice! I kinda like milks n beanz!!” Yeah. Milk and beans. She loved her milkies and her Tupperware container of dried beans. She loved to swipe those beans off of her Bumbo tray and all over our living room.

Mmmmm. Milks in Michigan!

Seeing that literal SIGN at that precise moment was inexplicable and brought me so much joy! I bet she has all of the best milks and beans that she could ever want up in heaven!

Yesterday on Nora’s actual birthday Gavin went with me to the Bonbonerie to pick out a cake for the party. On the way there Gavin commented, “We should have angel foodcake for her!” I agreed that angel foodcake would be perfect, and said we’d have to remember that for next year. It was later in the day, so I wasn’t expecting a huge selection to be left at Bonbonerie. Upon seeing the line out the door when we got there, I figured we might have a chance at some pretty cookies and that would probably be about it — which was totally fine. We didn’t have to wait too terribly long. (The “socially distanced” lines always appear longer than they actually are.) Once inside, it was indeed slim pickins. My eyes were immediately drawn to the tray of beautiful bluebird cookies behind the glass — those would be perfect! Gavin made his way over to a shelf of prepackaged cookies and tarts and pastries. “Hey look!” he exclaimed, “Angel foodcake!!” And there they were, only 4 little cakes left, dusted in powdered sugar with pretty yellow icing flowers on top. How absolutely perfect. An angel foodcake and two sets of 3 little birds were purchased before we made our way back home. Thank You, God! 🌼 What a sweetly specific surprise!

The last uncanny wink happened as I was in the car in the driveway waiting for William. He decided to come with me for a last minute trip to the grocery before guests arrived. I picked up my phone to check the time. It was not only 4:17 on 4/17 — but the random song that was playing took my breath away. “Thinking of You.” Of course I was thinking of her — but was she thinking of me too? Wow. My eyes welled up with tears again.

According to Timehop, it happened last year too – although I can’t remember what song was playing…

As in years past, we decorated the kitchen with the same decorations we used for Nora’s two birthdays while she was here with us. The invitation to family was last minute, so not everyone could make it, but those who were there made the day extra special. We talked about Nora, sang Happy Birthday to her, watched some cute videos, and we laughed and we cried.

Two candles because I can’t imagine her as any other age. Forever 2.

Such a special and important little old soul she was. Her time on this earth was brief, but she left behind so so much. Sooo many life lessons, so many precious memories, all while pointing us in the right direction, toward the Author of her life, of all life and of LOVE.

Happy birthday to you, my squishy Lady Baby! Enjoy your heavenly milkies and beans!

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13)

Happy Birthday, Nora Rose!

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Happy birthday, my sweet Lady Baby. Often I have to do the math in my head – you’d be 8. In my heart you’re forever 2, just as I remember you — your sweet fuzzy hair, your delicious baby chunk, your blue, knowing eyes with a heart-shaped pupil. The smell of your sweet, soft skin filed carefully away in my important memories archive.

April 17, 2012 at 5:12 pm you breathed your first breath into your tiny, fragile lungs. The sounds of your first cries permeated the very depths of our hearts and took our breath away. You forever changed the trajectory of so many lives, including your own Mom’s. You were PERFECT, my baby girl, exactly who God designed and created you to be. Only with that extra 18th chromosome would you have been able to accomplish your life purpose. At the time, however, it was hard for us to grasp this. To put it bluntly, we were terrified. It was impossible not to fall head over heals in love with you. The threat and thought of losing you at any given moment was unbearable. Ever so gradually, we gained our bearings. We acclimated to the very new and very different life that a medically fragile baby brings.

I don’t know if you can see us down here on earth right now or not, but the whole world is a scary place right now. The threat and thought of a virus has us all in quarantine, living a life none of us ever could have imagined. We find ourselves asking how we have become a part of something that “only happens in movies… to other, imaginary people…” Deep water, fear of the unknown / unseen, life interrupted. This old, familiar road that we walked down while you were here – but on a global level. We’re afraid of losing losing those we love the most, or even falling prey to the virus ourselves. Some of us have lost our jobs, our businesses and have no idea how we’re going to pay the bills, or put food on the table for ourselves and our families. The economy has gone to hell in a hand basket. It is unsettling, to say the least, not to know exactly what is around each corner. It is scary not to have any kind of definitive solution to the multitude of problems at hand right now. I remember these feelings of fear all too well, my sweet girl.

One of the many things that God taught me THROUGH YOU is that fear is a liar. I wasted so much time dwelling on all of the “what ifs” – imagining all kinds of horrible worst case scenarios. There are pictures of me holding you in what should have been a beautiful moment… but I see my swollen eyes, my tear-streaked face. I can almost feel my racing heart while Satan whispered fear and lies into my thoughts, “What if she dies tonight…” Instead of soaking in all of your sweetness and marveling at your soft shocks of dark hair, your tiny little face, I was debilitated with crippling fear. I’m sorry for any millisecond of time I wasted in fear. Many of those fears were worse than actually losing you. Why? Because I wasn’t meant to experience those scenarios at that time. When we actually did lose you on this earth – God MET US RIGHT THERE in inexplicably miraculous ways to comfort us and to bring us peace. None of that comfort or peace accompanies Satan-authored thoughts of fear. I try to remember those lessons in this present day when fear and uncertainty seem to always be on the menu with each news headline. I don’t have to have it all figured out right here, right now. Sometimes that’s not even my job. It’s God’s. So today, on your birthday, in honor of you, I’m going to be still, soak in peace and TRUST that God is going to make beauty from this mess we’re all in. He always has, He always is, He always will.

I hope you’re having the grandest of parties up in heaven, your favorite song “Happy Birthday” on loop, lots and lots of hot pink, toga party baffs and milkies on tap. You are so so very missed and loved!

Here are some sweet memories of your past birthdays with us – the day you were born, your Little Girl Birthday and your Big Girl Birthday ~

And just because we could all use a good laugh right now… here’s your famous rap songs “Kinda Stinky” and “What Time Is It?”

I love you, Nora!!!
Love,
Mommy
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I hope and pray all of Norns’s fan club is doing well through this difficult time. If you are so inclined, we would love to hear how Nora affected or changed your life in some way. Each and every account, no matter how big or small reminds us that Nora was sent here for such beautiful reasons and we would LOVE to hear or be reminded of them! Love and blessings to each of you and your families!

(And now, as I conclude this blog post – how crazy that “Praise You in This Storm” comes on the radio in the background… )