She is also required to wear at least panties to the dinner table. Because we are fancy.

Also, today I turned 41. I cannot think of anything that matters less.

Sorry for the long silence. I don't know what else to say about that, except thank you for all your kindness and concern. I am okay, except when I'm not. So it goes.

We named the baby Eva, and we buried her February 20. Eva was my great grandmother's name, and I've always wanted to name a daughter Eva (that's "EH-vah", not "EE-vah"). Somehow, though, it wasn't Sophia's name. I guess I was saving it. It means "life," and I love it, because the most important thing about my Eva is not that she died, but that she lived.

Some people raise an eyebrow at having a funeral for such a tiny pre-born baby, but I am so grateful we did. I absolutely hated everything about planning it, but the service itself was beautiful, and it gave me two things. 

First, I have a place to go, where I can sit next to her. I can't even tell you how much that means to me. And secondly - well, that day we found out she had died, when we left the doctor's office, we wandered blindly out the door. I sat down on a cold metal chair, my hands shoved deep in my coat pockets, folded over at the waist, and sobbed. Clay rubbed my back helplessly, and I gasped to him, "I just want it not to be true. Why can't it not be true?" In the days that followed, I said that so many times that Clay started answering me with slight desperation, "I'm sorry, but it is. It is true."

And after the service, when I watched them lower that tiny tiny, white tufted casket into the ground, and I stood there and thought for a panicky moment that I should lie down with her, just wrap my body around her, because who leaves a baby alone in such cold? - well, after I somehow survived that moment, I walked away knowing it was true. 

That may not sound like a mercy, but trust me, it is.

Today it was one month since the funeral, and I went out to visit her. I took a dozen roses. Two for Jennie. Two for Tre. Two for Max. Two for Raphael. Two for Sophia. And two for Eva. I sat next to her grave and prayed and cried and cried and cried until I was a red-faced, snotty mess. Again, this may not seem like a mercy, but it is. I told her how much I miss her. I told her about her siblings, and the struggles they are facing right now, and asked her to pray for them. I told her how weary and sad I am, and that I was doing my best, even though it seems awfully feeble. I told her I loved her. And I cried.

Then I left her two roses and took the rest home with me, where the rest of my life was waiting, with all its noise and problems. My husband, who holds me and tells me the truth. My squabbling, difficult, broken and beautiful children, whom I have the privilege of watching grow and unfurl in ways breathtaking and terrible.  

A beautiful bouquet, and so incomplete.

Feb - march 12 029

No. Incomplete, and yet so beautiful.


Jilly Jill

Sniff Sniff... Kira I wish there was someway I could take your pain away or at least help! I know words are only words, but I hope I love you & I'm praying for you helps in some small way! HAPPY BIRTHDAY by the way!! Can't believe I almost forgot! Love you tons!


What I want: To say the perfect thing.
What I don't want: To say anything with an ounce of potential to be the absolute wrong thing.
Since there's nothing I can say that is perfect, and SO MANY things I could say that are wrong (a gift of mine, by the way), you see that the odds are stacked against me.

But, I think you are terrific, with great kids and a beautiful family and a lot of people love you guys. I hope you know I'm on that list. xoxo

Julie in Austin (just moved to CO)

Kira, I am moved to tears. I don't know what to say except that my prayers are with you and your family. Hang in there, strong Mama.


Crying with you. Praying for you.



Jill W.

Good to see you back. You have been in my prayers.


I'm so sorry for your hurt, but I'm glad you're finding some small mercies in it all.

Alison C



Good to see you again :). You have been in my thoughts and prayers. So many times I wanted to contact you and tell you I was thinking of you, but I didn't know if that was weird. Since you only live inside my computer and all ;).
I went to junior high and high school with a girl named Eva pronounced the same way. I always thought it was a beautiful name. I'm so glad you named her and that you have somewhere to visit her.
I will be keeping you in my prayers.

Pamela L

I've been thinking of you and praying for your healing and peace - I'm so sad for your lost.

Also, Happy Birthday!! My birthday is on the 20th, too, and even though I only know you through this blog, I always remember now.

You are special - let your family envelope you ~


Ah, you have such a gift of expression. I pray that your heart continues to journey towards peace. You remain in our thoughts daily!

Angela Giles Klocke

I think of you pretty much daily, wishing I knew exactly where you lived so I could just show up and give you a hug, and then feeling like I shouldn't ask because the last thing you need is to attend to "my" needs and desires for this to happen. *sigh* I am hugging you all the same and praying for you, for all of you.


I've been thinking and praying for you daily. There is a quote, by Elizabeth McCracken, and I hope that someday it might bring you a little comfort. "It's a happy life but someone is missing. It's a happy life, and someone is missing..."
My friend, who lost her daughter at 27 weeks along, introduced it to me, after I lost my baby last spring. It took me a long while to feel it, but slowly the happy creeps back in - to sit tight with the sad. I will continue to pray for you, Clay, Jennie and the kids. In Judaism, there is a hope for renewal of spirit (refuah shlema) and I wish this for you. It doesn't come quickly or easily, but it does come.
I am, as always, so sorry for your loss. But I am glad that you have a place to visit your Eva, a place to sit beside her and tell her about her siblings, a place to feel that you are with her. I know she is with you always, a piece of her in your heart, and in the hearts of Clay and the kids. These tiny souls, here and gone in an instant, touch us so deeply. I know I'm rambling, I'm sorry. I just want you to know how not alone you are, even if it seems like it sometimes.


I'm glad you're back. And still praying for you.

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