Today marks the 26th day without my babies. And I still feel empty. I've been doing rather well lately. It just seems I only think to write when I'm having a hard time at it. The tears are freely flowing now. I have just visited a very special site. It's called "To write their names in the sand". The woman who keeps up with the site is an incredibly beautiful person. She dedicates the little bit of free time she has to writing names of lost babies in the sand at sunset on an Australian beach. The pictures are amazing. She really has an eye for beauty! But I just sat and read through her entire blog. She is now pregnant again. I think that she has such insightful things to say and I feel put to shame as a mother in comparison to her. She looks at her children through this eye that sees nothing but the wonderful people they are. I suppose I'm catching her at a good time when she's writing and not smack dab in the middle of a tantrum or something, but the way she puts her emotions into words I love. My mission this week is to look at my children for the wonderful, innocent, teachers that they are. I've been laughing this week about my son Nathan. He seems to be at his peak for asking questions. Everything is a question, and I must admit however bothersome it is to answer 1 million two hundred and forty four questions a day I love his love for learning. It's this little spark of innocence I hear in his voice when it raises up to ask me a question. With that question mark I hear hope that everything is going to be alright.
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