Tim, Lex, Luke, Gilles, Niels, Nick, Finn, Otto . . .

We're having a boy! The youngest two (I guess now they're the oldest two as well) went with us to the 20-week ultrasound yesterday. Everything looks perfect and we got a couple of really definite looks at boy anatomy. That evens the score for Teams Blue and Pink in our family.

For some reason, boy names are insanely hard for my husband and me. Our son wasn't named until halfway through labor (to be fair, he did surprise us by coming 7 weeks early). I can't decide whether we're aided or hindered by requiring our children's names to be common in both Holland and America, to be pronounced roughly the same way in both languages, and not to begin with a letter we've already used (to avoid confusion: Dutch mail is delivered to First Initial Last Name). It greatly reduces the available names, which leaves us less to work with but also less to get lost in.

One Month

It's been exactly a month since my daughter died. The days her body stayed home, the painted casket, the cremation, the memorial service, even the simple passing of time: all have brought tiny bits of closure. I'm feeling remarkably, surprisingly good. Life flows on. Dinners get made, visits get planned, school reports are discussed, holidays approach, the baby inside me grows. My daughter's death has found its niche inside the flow, no longer filling every moment but occasionally rattling for attention on its shelf--and so far supremely dust-free.

And yet it all fades. I've relived her last 24 hours so many times, her last breaths. I don't ever want to forget it, how it was being there, what I felt, the sound and smell and feel of her. But already, just over 4 weeks later, the colors have begun to dim. I suppose if I forget things, I won't know it to regret it, but I hope the memories stay vibrant.

Hyena Fever

A month or two ago, I ordered several different cloth diapers to see what I liked best. (We went with simple prefolds on the first three, but this time I'm going hyena*.) They were all gorgeous, but I did have a favorite:

This bamboo diaper is soft, fitted, absorbent, and gorgeous, and it got me drooling. It's the creation of master seamstress Isabelle Uzeel at Mama's & Kindjes in Belgium, and I've got another 29 on the way, plus 6 thicker night versions and 16 wool covers (10 for day, 6 for night). I am so psyched.

* Hyenas are ever in search of the perfect cloth diaper. Hyena diapers are in great demand and hard to get. Fortunately for me, Isabelle's site is in Dutch and French only, greatly limiting my competition.

Another Step to Goodbye

Sunday's memorial gathering was just as we'd hoped it would be. It was more like a reception than a service; everyone had appetizers and drinks and moved among the crowd, talking to each other and to us. Many shared a written memory of Meghan to add to our remembrance book. Halfway through we paused for two minutes of silence.

We played the CD we made of songs my daughter loved to hear. A slide show ran on endless loop in one corner, fifty photos from baby to the last Spain trip. It was therapeutic for me making the CD and slide show. I ended it with this song snippet:

In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky
In my heart there'll always be a place for you
For all my life I'll keep a part of you with me
And everywhere I am, there you'll be.

--Faith Hill, There You'll Be

Two hours were not enough; the last of us trickled out just over three hours later. As people left, they took a packet of flower bulbs to plant and remember Meghan by as they bloom in the spring. We found this chinese proverb, which was perfect for the cover sheet:

Flowers leave some of their scent behind in the hand that tends them.

And so we move on, another moment of closure complete. I'm awed by the net of friendship around us, immensely large and spread around the world. So many people are living through this with us. Thank you all.