Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Tiny Bare Feet

Summer marches on, and July is barreling towards my family, ready or not. On July 1, 2012, my sister and her husband gave birth to a beautiful, full term little girl named Clara Edith Webb. Clara never made it home. Taken far too soon, little Clara was stillborn. I think we’ve all tried to rationalize why something so horrible could happen to someone so undeserving – the most innocent of all creatures. There is no rationalization to be made – a precious little life hung suspended above the heads of the Webb family for 43 weeks, as they planned and prepared and celebrated the beautiful baby about to bless their lives. When I think about Clara, I wish that I could just believe in the comforts of heaven – that this little one is being cradled up above, rocked in the arms of others in our lives that are gone but not forgotten. It is warm feeling to imagine my own Grandma Edith rocking her great granddaughter, singing songs she probably sang to my dad 60 years ago, and passing them on to Clara.

I know that I haven’t been the support that I could have been for Heather and David, as they’ve dealt with the trauma over the last nearly 12 months. My nieces, Lakin and Addah, have had to learn to balance not only with the stresses of being a tween today, but the recovery process of learning to wrap their own 10 and 11 year old minds around the loss of their baby sister. I don’t know that anyone really knows what to say to someone dealing with this type of loss, learning how to pick up the pieces, and move forward. If love is truly all we need, we’d have baby Clara here today, probably learning how to walk and say things like “Mama” and “Dada”, and we’d all be about to celebrate her 1st birthday. Clara is a beautiful flower, never given the chance to bloom. I think Winnie the Pooh was right – sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart. I think we’ll all be able to hear the pitter patter of Clara’s little footprints in our hearts, her beautiful voice silenced for reasons none of us know. We can’t count the breaths she took, but she’s left us all breathless in different ways, a reminder that life’s precious moments are far too special, sometimes fleeting much too fast.

Heather and David, I love you. I’m here for you. I always am. I’m sorry that I don’t know what to say, or how to react when you talk about Clara. But I am, and will always be, the shoulder of support whenever you need it. You are both so strong, and I’ve admired both of your courageousness over the last year, the realizations you both have made, and the incredible ways you have coped and picked up the pieces you never should have had to pick up.

Sweet Clara, you will always be remembered and loved. Happy Birthday, little one.

To ready Clara's birth story, visit Heather's blog, The Destiny Manifest, at this link.