Clovers, clovers, everywhere...

My husband said something the other day that has been nagging at me. He meant no harm in saying it, and I have no hard feelings toward him for it. It stems from an outsider's perspective of my emotional state - and I think I owe it to him (and other families like ours) to explain myself.

Without getting into all the details, my first child was stillborn in 2010 - four months too early. Her original due date was March 17, 2011. 

St. Patrick's Day.

So, naturally, that holiday - and the clovers that so often embody it - became synonymous with my daughter. I have clover clings on the window in my kitchen. I have clover earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. I have over-sized felt clovers on the wall by my back door. I have a welcome sign, a sticker on my van, a decal on my laptop. My living children know what the clovers are for, and we have renamed March 17th, Lia Day. 

Now that you have that tiny backstory, let me remind you again that I have no hard feeling toward my darling husband for what he said. It just made me think.

"Doesn't all the clovers everywhere kind of, you know, make it seem like you're elevating her higher than the other kids?"

The short answer is "No."

But here, for Kyle (and for many other people who have wondered the same thing at one point or another), is the long answer:

I don't think that my clovers are putting Lia on a pedestal.

First of all, I am obsessive in general - I have 67 lip balms and a closet full of fabric and nine Doctor Who sonic screwdrivers and 48 Jim Brickman albums and at one time had 127 plush Eeyores... I could go on and on. The point here is that the volume of clovers isn't really an issue in my world, because it is a natural progression for my personality. Some obsessiveness is just a bit of who I am. 

So why would collecting clovers be any different?

But to most people, that is just too much. It seems unhealthy to the outside world. They think, "Dang, that girl needs to learn to let go". But what would you do? 

Imagine it - your child is gone. How do you cope? The answer to that question is going to vary depending on the person and the situation. Everyone grieves differently.

My way to grieve is to have little reminders of my daughter everywhere I look.

If I'm in the kitchen, the window reminds me.

If I'm in the living room, the marble paperweight on my desk reminds me.

If I'm in my bedroom, my clover bear reminds me.

Walking down the hall, the welcome sign reminds me.

Leaving in the van, the window decal reminds me.

In any other place, at any other time, my jewelry reminds me.

When I see those clovers I remember how much I love her (as if I could ever forget). And it also reminds everyone else who knows me even a little bit, that I love her. The world should know that my daughter existed. They have memorials for veterans, they have monuments to great leaders, they have gravestones for loved ones who have lived their lives and made their memories.

But what memories are there of Lia except for mine?

She never took a breath, therefore she gets no birth certificate. According to the birth records, MY DAUGHTER NEVER EXISTED AT ALL. 

That is why I put clovers everywhere. That is why I tell my story to anyone who will listen. That is why I shall never be silent and will always speak her name as if she were my child BECAUSE SHE ALWAYS HAS BEEN MY CHILD. 

She matters just as much as a child who was miscarried. As much as the toddler who died of SIDS. As much as the child who lost a battle with cancer.  As much as the teenager in a car accident. If it were your child, it would destroy you - no matter the manner of their death.

So no matter what we are doing - playing hide-and-seek or playing with train tracks, whining about chores or fighting with each other, eating our meals and reading our stories - with the clovers, my Lia is always there. I can't ever let the world forget that I have five children, even though you only can see four. I owe it to the girl who changed my life to never forget hers.

And that, my friends, is why. That is why I love clovers and have them near me all the time. In March for sure; but also in May, and August, and December, and all the days in between. For other parents it's butterflies. Or roses. Or Chewbacca. It doesn't matter what reminds us of those beautiful lives we have lost - it matters that we have something. Something that is ours, and theirs. And they all are beautiful.

Let us not forget the people that are in our hearts at all hours of the day and night.

And don't let the world forget about them, either.