That girl

She is so pretty. My daughter. Jenna. I love my boys. They are wonderful and caring and manly. But let's be honest here, they are boys. Jenna is my girl. In all ways to a mother. My shopping buddy, my confident, my very best friend. It's always been that way. I'd sneak off with her when she was a baby and leave her oldest brother with his dad or his pappy( he rather be with them) and when her younger brother came along, I left both the boys and carry Jenna out with me. Sometimes we'd run to the car yelling "Escape from the boy world!" We would eat lunch, go grocery shopping, hit the library ( exciting I know).  It wasn't what we did, it was being together. Talk, talk, talk. There might have been a couple of teenage alien years when she wanted to shut me out, I took the door off her room. She might have tried to push me away a few times, but she is a little bitty thing, I'm not. I stayed right there, we got through it. And we remained friends even when I had to be the Mother.

I loved watching her grow up to be kind. I loved seeing her develop into the beauty she is, inside and out. I was there when she fell in love, and I knew it was true. They have such fun together her and Ben. He is the right guy for my daughter. I know these things, I am her mother.

So I know her expressions. I could tell yesterday she was hurting. It took her about an hour and she said I miss David. My daughter misses her child and I can't do anything about it, but cry with her. I miss him too, but I didn't carry him in my body. I didn't feel those kicks or feel the joy of being pregnant with him. I was there beside her for all of it. I was there holding her as she held him, as his little life slipped away from us. I felt her body shake, I felt the pain of being a mother who could not help her child. I felt the helplessness.

Some people are impatient for her to just be ok now. You have Brooklyn, another precious miracle. Honestly this pain will never leave until we are in heaven with David. My daughter has this wound that will never completely heal.

And because I am her mother the wound is mine too. But I smile. Try and comfort her, distract her, Lets go shopping, but inside my heart just hurts because I cannot heal her hurt. I can only pray and that it what I do.

I don't like whiners. I'm not a whiner but this blog business, this writing out my feelings is a bit of therapy for me. Not my favorite therapy.

That would be.

Retail. :)