When I first found out I was pregnant with Portia, the timing was just so (her due date was on Miranda's birthday) that one of my friends, Christie, said that she was a gift from Miranda. I didn't buy it at the time because I'm skeptical. It's just biology, of course. Lately though, I'm starting to believe this more and more.
Since I've returned home from St. Louis, I've gotten settled back into my house and into a scheduled nap and bed routine. Anyone who knows me knows how important this is for me. And Portia responds really well to it.
Most afternoons, Portia sleeps for three to five hours straight. Then I put her to bed at seven and she'll usually sleep until morning (usually around five or six to eat, then she'll go back and sleep until after nine).
I honestly didn't think babies like this existed. I'd heard things about them, but they were usually formula-fed or I simply didn't believe it.
This morning, after 6:30, I woke up ready to explode from not feeding Portia all night. I hadn't heard anything, but decided to creep into her room to make sure she was okay. (I know all moms do it, but I'm particularly afraid of something happening to my baby. I know firsthand how fragile babies are. And I pray every night that I get to keep this one.)
Anyway, she was awake, sucking on her fist, just waiting for me to come in and get her. Despite how hungry she was, just one look from me and she smiled so big. I can always make her smile even if she's so upset just by looking into her face. I fed her and now she's back in bed.
Bianca's in school now, so I've got time to start writing again, and reading more. Maybe a nap here or there. Perhaps to clean my house? (But let's not tell Eric that, as I really like the cleaning people to come.)
This past Saturday marked two years since Miranda passed. With Portia came less time to sit around feeling sorry for myself about losing my baby. It has become easier. Not because I don't feel the same way or love her, but because there's not as many moments that I sit down and let myself think about her. When I do, I'm just as sad as I was.
So maybe it's true. Maybe Miranda sent this perfect, easy baby to me to help me move forward and help me grieve a little less.
