I dreamed about my late daughter Audrey last night. I have had dreams about her before, but only of her as a baby. In my dream last night, she was somewhere between 9 or 10 years old, the age she would be today had she not passed 2 days after her birth in 2014. With her 10^th birthday coming up in February, I had found myself recently pondering what she would be like as a 10-year-old. What would her interests be? Would she be shy or outgoing? Would she like music or drawing? Would she be playing any sports? So many questions I’ll never know the answers to. Then I had this dream where I was garage sale shopping with the kids. We came to a house that had several pairs of cute boots, I looked at my twins and said, “We’ve been looking for boots for you girls, and these are just your size, this perfect!”. Then a sweet girl with dark hair who appeared to be 9 or 10 came up to me and said, “Mom, what about me? Do I get to pick out a pair?”. I turned around somewhat surprised and replied, “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you liked boots! Of course you can pick out a pair!” She chose a pair of lavender colored boots and tried them on. She looked up with a smile and nod of approval. Then the dream ended. I woke up with heaviness in my heart. As a mom, you quickly pick up on the personalities and interests of your children. Each child often has specific likes and dislikes that make them unique, and you know all of them simply because you are mom. This dream was just another reminder that I’ll never know her like that, and it cut deep.

The twins had been sick earlier in the week, so we had been confined to our home the entire week and to make matters worse, we had just turned the clocks back for Daylight Savings and the sun had been setting at 5pm. Along with the heaviness was a restlessness that began to settle in my heart. When I find myself missing Audrey a little extra, I take that burden to the Lord, and much of the sadness turns into gratitude. The sadness doesn’t completely disappear. I don’t think it’d be right if it did. It’s not that I don’t grieve what’s been lost or what could have been, but just because I grieve, doesn’t mean joy cannot be found. I can look at my family and grieve that one of our members is missing and also look at them and feel exceeding joy for those of us that do get to be together. I will always feel both.

I won’t lie and tell you I never have moments of frustration with my children, or that I always find joy in the endless loads of laundry or the sink full of dirty dishes, but the gift that God keeps giving me through Audrey is contentment. When I feel exhausted from toddlers who still don’t sleep through the night, I am reminded of what it felt like to leave the hospital with empty arms after giving birth to Audrey. When I feel bored from the monotony of motherhood, I am reminded what a blessing it is to have a family to care for. When I feel overstimulated by my name being called from every direction, I am reminded of the quiet that once consumed our home due to the lack of children residing inside it. When I begin to feel restless after being cooped up due to an illness making its way through our household, I am reminded that every day spent under the same roof together is a priceless gift. These ordinary days – they are filled with miracles – all it takes is a change in perspective to see them sometimes.

My sweet Audrey, I may not know you like I know your siblings, but you, my dear, made me a Mama. My love for you is no less. Your life has put a deep thankfulness in my heart. Because of you, I have been witness to an abundance of life’s ordinary miracles. It has been nearly a decade since you left this earth, but you continue to teach me so much about life. You were and always will be a gift to our family. Til we meet again, sweet girl.