Happy birthday, baby girl

Emily’s birthday today, and so we are packing for the trip up to our soft landing pad, The Briars, and Noah is babbling about his hotel! That has TREEHOUSE! How he remembers that it has Treehouse (24/7 advertising-free kids’ programming), I’m not sure. He told my parents that at his hotel he gets up in the morning and watches tv! Which is true. One of us staggers out of bed and turns it on. But I’m still amazed he remembers this.

Oh and of course, there is a pool.

5 years ago, life was very different. At this time, I was convinced that I was in labour; Carl was emailing his work and I was dropping red-coloured stew on the kitchen floor, which Carl would hear, come down, and have a panic-inducing moment about. Then we cleaned it up together and I emailed my work. By 8:15 Carl was talking me into the car. I was hesitant to leave by that time, even though my contractions were about 7 minutes apart. I was a little in denial.

5 years and really, the pain isn’t much better. I feel like it is the same gaping hole, it’s just that there is more ground build up beyond it. It is so impossible to imagine a life without Noah, but it is possible to imagine a life with Emily. Even if the timelines are split over what happened at 5:30 pm that March 12th.

5 year old girls are amazing creatures; there are several at Noah’s school, one of whom takes Noah under her wing. She’s got dark hard and I think she’s Philipina; she’s sassy and imaginative and talkative. She calls me Noahsmom, like “Noahsmom, can Noah play on the Fafa hill?”

(We’re not quite sure why fafa, but there’s a mound of snow all the kids at Noah’s school call the fafa hill and they all play on there gleefully while we parents stand around. Even with the recent warm weather it’s not entirely gone: it’s just filthy and icey, which bothers the kids not at all.)

Anyways, I know that had Emily lived we wouldn’t live in this neighbourhood, wouldn’t go to this school. And yet I can picture her playing with Noah on the fafa hill, and it is still brutally gut wrenching that she did not get to do that. I am still angry. Some people have mildly implied that one needs to get over it, but I don’t see how that could be.