Three years

Three years today. That's how long it's been since our little girl was born.

People used to say to me "time flies" and I never believed it. When you're single and don't have any responsibilities to anyone else, when you're focussed only on yourself, time doesn't really have any meaning. Something wonderful is always just around the corner.

But when you have children, suddenly you can SEE time flying by. You can SEE your children growing. You can MEASURE time by the size of their feet, their hands, the new clothes you need to buy. You can CELEBRATE time with every birthday that comes your way.

Unfortunately, even when you don't have your child in your arms, but only in your heart, time still flies.

It's hard for me to realise that three years has gone by.

I can remember those days like they were yesterday.

That day that I went to the hospital and heard those dreadful words. That morning (only about 16 hours after we found out she had died) when she was born. The absolute horror and shock when you realise it's not a nightmare ... it's much worse ... it's reality.

My baby girl would be three years old today. Should be three years old today. Instead of a day of celebration, a day when we measure time and wonder at it's flight, instead we mourn that day and we mourn time's flight.

Has it gotten any easier? Yes, it has. Has it gotten any better? No, it hasn't. It just is.

Time is so cruel in a way. It passes by, and life goes on, and other children grow. Other children who grow -- to me they serve as a constant reminder of what my children didn't get to do.

I close my eyes and I remember that early morning on that Tuesday three years ago. I remember so clearly my labour. I remember so clearly my complete distress. I remember when she was born. I remember hoping against hope that the doctors were wrong -- that she would breathe. I remember at first being too scared to hold her. I remember eventually holding her and HOWLING.

I remember it all.

Like it was yesterday instead of three years ago.