We are coming to the end of our first week at home. There have been minimal time commitments leaving me a large amount of time to finish Sonzee's room. This morning I was cleaning off the remaining items that have been thrown on her bed as the rest of her room is straightened up. I am in search of one specific item I know I have hidden somewhere so I can frame it, but I have no idea where it has been placed for the last almost 5 years. I went into her brother's closet which has been the main storage facility for many of the kids' items because it is the only walk-in closet in our house. I reached for a large green Ikea bin sure that it was full of cards and papers related to Sonzee, but as soon as my eyes caught the contents I realized I was right about only one thing, it was a box for Sonzee.
Blankets. I saved her blankets in this bin when she was no longer a baby. After she turned three and started school I exchanged the blankets she would take out in public. I essentially forgot about the blankets and that I put them in this box. I have looked at so many baby pictures recently with these blankets and maybe one time did it even dawn on me I had not seen them in a while. It clearly wasn't too much of a thought for me as I didn't go on a rampage to find them, but now, here they are unexpectedly in my face. The baby blanket with her birth statistics that my sister made for her, ironically with lime green thread. The Sonzee/Sonya bear blanket that an online Facebook shop sent to children who spent time in the hospital. Her first NICU blankets. The blanket the International Foundation for CDKL5 sent me when she was first diagnosed, which reminded me that it was also sent with the Raggy Ann doll that has been in her room that I couldn't remember who had given it to her. The small lovie blanket we grabbed from the volunteer cart during one of her PCH stays because it was red. All of these blankets that were such a significant part of her early years and now they will be a significant part of my future.
I am still adjusting to how things continuously sneak up on me. I am still caught off guard with these moments that feel like a fresh stab wound. I am still shocked that it isn't until these types of moments that I realize I am blocking so many emotions. I am still surprised at how much it hurts that she isn't here. I am still overwhelmed by the thought that she won't ever be back with us here. I am still having difficulty with the fact that I justify that losing her was better for her because of the struggling she did while she was alive. I still don't understand how that makes sense. I still cannot comprehend that she had to spend 4 years 11 months and 22 days locked inside her body only for her freedom to come by leaving earth. But, besides all of that, what I find almost poetic is that baby blankets that were used for her comfort are the items that brought me to tears.