A day in the life of Rowan

 As I sat down this morning to write this post,  to mark the 3 years since we lost you, all that initially came was sadness and grief. But I was determined to focus on happier thoughts and thus decided to write about a day in your life.

Getting you ready for school was always fun - you hated it. You would barely open your eyes while getting dressed, but then as we descended the stairs, and I would sing a little to you, you would perk up, and give me one of your sleepy smiles.  You hated the idea of breakfast.  I'd be lucky to get you to eat more than a couple of bites. 

 

And because you could charm anyone you laid eyes on, you convinced your teachers and therapist to just take it slow in the mornings, and all your lessons and therapies were moved to the afternoon.  You had a whole secret life at school, with lots of friends and admirers.  It was such a happy place for you.

In the afternoon, you would ride the bus home from school, and Nanny and Laurel would be waiting here for you. Laurel would "help" Nanny get you settled in - off came your cape and your orthotics.  And then they would get you a snack.  It warms my heart the imprint you made on your sister during these times.  She is such a helpful and empathetic little girl.  She was constantly checking in on you, bringing you toys and picking up your sippy cup. She was very happy to help. 

Your Daddy & I would arrive after work, and after the rush of being greeted by Laurel, and Molly (sure miss her too) and Nanny, we would finally make our way to you, where you were patiently waiting for us to drop off our things and say hello.  I'll never forget the feeling it gave me to see you face, or even just think about you on my drive home from work.  All my thoughts of work would completely fade.  And I could fully turn my attention to you and the other member of my family.  You had such an amazing ability to get me to focus.  You Daddy and I often talk about that special power of yours. 

After we'd check in with Nanny about you and your sister's day, we'd get dinner ready.  And usually who ever was cooking, the other of us, made your dinner.  In the last year you were with us, your Daddy usually fed you, as I was busy with your sister.  You'd eat, we'd eat, your sister would make a mess. And then while cleaning up, you and Laurel would have such tender moments together.  She'd bring you a toy, or I'd push you near the refrigerator magnets that played music, and Laurel would dance for you.  

After dinner, we'd all pile into the living room, where you'd stretch out on the floor.  Sitting up in your high chair was fatiguing for you, and now you needed to stretch out.  And then you and Laurel would play with some toys, and we'd watch some TV and just hang out.  

At bedtime, both of you would get changed, and we'd read a book together. Then Laurel would go off to bed before you.  After your meds and therapies, we would have a little time with just you, in our bedroom.  You'd stretched out on the couch, with your feet in my lap, and you'd just watch a little more TV with us, until you settled down enough to go to bed. If we were lucky. 

You'd snuggle into bed, and then you would rock yourself to sleep with your right-arm swing. Such a silly girl. That arm would pound back and fourth, rhythmically, for a long time, and sometimes you even did it when you were asleep.  Sometimes, even now, I think I hear you pounding.  

Frequently you'd have a heard time falling asleep, and you would be so content to lie in your bed and sing.  Sometimes, you sang all night long. And I would lie in my bed listening, wondering what I could do to help you sleep, knowing you were way too jazzed to sleep and there was little I could do.  When you really got going, I would get you out of bed and rock you a bit, sing to you, and maybe that would help you settle down for the night.  But usually it just made you even more excited.  Even though this was a futile attempt to get you to sleep, I remember these moments especially.  You and I would be the only two awake in the whole house. The whole house was quiet.  I really miss these moments.  Just you and I snuggling. 

The next day was always a sleepy day for you.  You'd have even more difficulty getting moving in the morning.  But it caught up with you at bedtime, and then you rhythm of sleep and wake would get a correction, and you'd have a good night.  

The rhythm of our days has changed, as it would, no matter the circumstance.  But your absence is noticed in our life.  We talk often of missing your coos, and your smiles, your stubborn determination, your singing in the middle of the night.  You have a strong hold in our world still and we are working hard to keep your memories with us. 

Even though as time passes, we make changes to our surroundings. First your toys were put away for safe keeping, then your chair, we made additions to our home, and now we've added a home you've never traveled to.  Its hard making these changes without you.  Make new memories that don't include you. 

But I know that you are watching over us, and can see how we live our lives, and would have not wanted us to remain the same.  I know that are with us in every step we make.  

  

This past year, I've written so little here, journaling our life.  And I hope to be able to return to this journal more often in the future. This journal has been a great source of comfort for my aching heart, to write here about you, and your sister, and to read it later.  My memories of you feel closer, and stay fresher when I spend time looking back in the archives.  Seeing your smiling face, or being reminded of memory that I've forgotten does wonders for my heart.  

Today we will spend the day at home, thinking about you.  Thank you for all the memories.