Through the eyes of a child. . .

Olivia and I have some interesting conversations, and yesterday was no exception.  Sometimes her perspective is so clear and mature that I'm completely amazed.  I shouldn't keep being surprised by this, yet somehow, I am.

Olivia wanted to know why girls don't have penises like boys.  I told her that if we had penises we wouldn't be able to have babies, so she asked what we have that boys don't.  I told her we have a vagina.  I was beginning to get a little nervous about how far this conversation was going to go.

Then, thankfully, she started asking if the vagina was in her tummy.  We talked about the uterus that holds the baby and the ovaries that hold the eggs that might get to be babies.  She decided that babies don't get to be born until it's their birthday so that's why not all eggs are babies.  I let her stick with that for now.

She was worried that if she has a baby, she might have twins who have their ears stuck together.  I know that they talked about conjoined twins in school a while back, so I wasn't completely surprised at her train of thought.  She wanted to know how twins were made.  We were talking about when you have two or three eggs which makes two or three babies and they all are in their own water balloon.  I explained that they can't get stuck together if they each have their own balloon.  She wasn't sure if she should believe that you could really have three babies.  I told her that I had three babies with three water balloons a long time ago.

Olivia wanted to know who they were.  When I said that they died in my uterus and they didn't get a birthday, he asked if they were boys or girls.  They were only 9 weeks, so we didn't even find that out.

"What are their names?"

We never named them.  We never had a chance.

"Oh.  Well, let's name them now.  We'll call the boy Junior.  The girls will be Buttercup and Kaylea."

I smiled at the this.  I looked at her and saw how beautiful she is and felt how sweet it was of her to name kids she never knew.

She looked at me and gently took my hand in hers.  She rubbed the back of my hand with her other hand and said, "I'm sorry your babies died, Mommy."

It took some extra blinking to keep the pipes from leaking.  I gave her a big hug and asked if she wanted to know any more about twins and triplets.

She counted up and said that I would have had six kids: Junior, Buttercup, Kaylea, Ashlynn, Payton and Olivia.  I reminded her that I didn't get to carry Ashlynn in my tummy, even though I love her bunches.  I told her that I did have one other baby who didn't get a birthday so I could have had six kids, though.

"Well, since we already have more girls than boys," she mused, "We'll name this one Miles.  Like Max and Miles at church.  That's a good name."

We got sidetracked after that as Dan and Payton were ready for us to start our running around for the morning and I shrugged it aside.  When my sister miscarried a couple years ago, I relived all of this and dealt with it.  I was good.

We swung by McDonald's to get some breakfast for Payton before his choir rehearsal.  We waited 20 minutes after paying and getting our drinks and never got our food.  We had to get Payton to school or he would be late.

"I'm going to come back and yell at them later," I said as I drove away.  Tears started coming. "Dan, I'm going to need your help with that."

"OK," he replied automatically.  When he looked up and saw me crying, he was confused.

"I'm not crying about McDonald's."

"I know," he said, "You are feeling bad because Payton doesn't get any breakfast."

"No.  Livi named my babies."

We dropped Payton off at school and Dan and I talked a lot.  I couldn't understand why I was having such a  hard time with this.  Dan reminded me of the scene in the Disney "Tarzan" where they say you can't name the human or you'll get attached to it.

That didn't make any sense to me.  I've already been through this.  I've already dealt with this.  I'm done with it.  I have given birth to two beautiful kids and been blessed to help in raising three others.  This seemed bizarre.

Dan looked at me, held my hand and said, "It is never going to go away."

For a guy who wasn't with me through either miscarriage, he sure seems to understand a lot about what I have been through and am continuing to go through.  I don't know what I did to deserve the blessings of a husband who will support me through not only what we've been through together, but things he's never experienced.  I never did anything to deserve a six year old who understands and comforts me more than so many adults know how to do.

I don't know if this will ever be easier when life brings these memories back to me, but I know I can get through them with astounding support.

I know that I will never forget Miles or Junior or Buttercup or Kaylea.