Little things

I woke up Sunday morning, feeling pretty good and looking forward to going to church. Chris left early because he was doing a reading and wanted to make sure everything was set up. When I arrived, we were handed the bulletin and found Chris and sat down. I opened the bulletin and I was reading through it when I came to an announcement saying that there was going to be a baby dedication. I didn't think that it would really hit me, but it did. Everytime I thought about the upcoming baby dedication, I started to tear up because all I could picture was our pastor holding Kaitlyn and dedicating her to the Lord while we were in the hospital room. We were also given a baby dedication card. I tried not to think of the dedication they were doing in church, but the family with the baby was sitting across the aisle from us. I kept tearing up, I knew that I might lose it during the dedication and thankfully Chris had an order of service. So right before the dedication began, I snuck out to the bathroom. I was okay, I didn't really cry. When I heard the singing start, I came back in and I was okay through the rest of the service (which was a great service). You just never really know when a grief trigger may come up. I'm glad that I was able to get through that one. I just have to take it one at a time.

Last night, as we were lying in bed, Chris and I held the heart that holds Kaitlyn and we talked about her. A few tears were shed, but we were able to spend time with each other and Kaitlyn and the Lord, which always feel nice. We haven't looked at her stuff in a while, so it was nice. We were together, as a family. I also held Kaitlyn's blanket. I haven't been able to unfold the blanket since we came home from the hospital. I feel like if I leave it folded the way it was in the hospital, it keeps me closer to the time when I got to hold her in that blanket. But yesterday, when I was holding her blanket, I felt for the first time, that it would be okay to re-fold it. I didn't actually unfold the blanket, but I know I could.