My sister Jamie took some photos of Harry and me as the sun was setting last night. I’m so lovey dovey over this little guy. Even though he is the third, I’m just as smitten as the first. If not more! You know that line from Anne of Avonlea that Marilla says? “Every baby is the sweetest and the best.” It’s true!
This mothers day I am thinking a lot about my miscarriages. Especially the last one. It was about three years ago now. I buried the little coin sized baby in my garden and planted some forget me nots above him/her. (I try not to think her, but I do.) I am not a dates type person so I probably wouldn’t remember except for those forget me nots. Which is both sad and the point of them. And they just happen to bloom around mothers day. Rather poetic, don’t you think? Every year he/she’ll be regrown in little blue flowers and bitter-sweet memories of all the worry and pleading prayers and waiting to hear little heart beats. Those forget me nots remind me not to forget the three that stuck.
Of note: Harry is three months old. His hair lightens to red in the sun. He is wearing a Harajuku Lovers outfit that is my favoritest thing I’ve ever bought for a baby. Boy or GIRL! And Jamie pointed out to me last night that I had almost the exact same outfit when I was two. I’ll have to post a picture of it. It looks like a picture of Oliver in a sailor dress!