Overcast with a Chance of Showers

I was making our Christmas photo card last week. After Emily's birthday last summer, there was no way I could leave her out. I needed two pictures- not one- on that card. She is our daughter, she is part of our family, so she goes on the card-with the rest of us.

We only have one photo of Emily with her eyes open. It is now my favorite picture of her. It used to be of the ones where she was sleeping and she looked so angelic, peacefully sleeping under drugs of sedation. Those photographs I treasure but I have a new favorite. When I hold this photo it's almost like I'm holding her again. The way her face is angled and she's looking up into my face:

Rachel made a little card, just a simple piece of paper, that said "EMILY". She set it up against her framed copy of Emily's photo. The one you see above. Rachel explained to me why she did that. She did not want people to forget about Emily. She wanted people to remember Emily and never forget. I am so proud of Rachel right now. Such a sweet big sister. She has more guts than I do. I met a new family last Sunday at church. And, even though I keep vowing to myself I won't do this, I did it again. I said "Four children." It's a lie. I don't have four children. We (they and me) only SEE four children so we all assume four. But where's Emily? There's a fifth child in this family of ours?
It's not that I don't forget. Hardly.
Maybe it's the awkwardness. Maybe it's having to explain. Maybe it's the looks of sympathy (which there is nothing wrong with) that I dread.
I'm still trying to figure myself out.
Maybe I'm ashamed of Emily. Maybe that's it. I'm ashamed of having a child who wasn't healthy, who wasn't formed perfectly in my womb. Maybe it's all those Milky Ways I ate while I was pregnant with her.
But I know that's not the reason. Because I have two other children who aren't healthy. And I'm not ashamed of them.

Sometimes I get tired of this road. This road of healing, the dull ache, like an invisible bruise, trying to figure out the aspects of letting God take our child. Trying to figure out how to tell people, strangers who don't and friends who know. How to tell them what's in my heart, on my mind. Most days I have peace, thanks to all the healing that took place last summer. But there's still an ache, stronger some days. Like a healed injury during bad weather.
I guess it's raining right now, in my heart, because the ache is stronger, and I miss her.