Am I Still a Big Sister?

September 15, 2007.  The day that our little princess entered our world. Lyla Marie weighed in at 7 lbs. 7 ounces, and was 19 &3/4 inches long. She turned our world into a whirlwind of love, joy, and sleepless nights, but we wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

For over four years we weren't sure if we wanted to add to our perfect family. We loved giving Lyla all of our attention, and I wasn't sure how I could love another as much as I did her. Was it even possible for my heart to be even more full of pure bliss? We found out the answer to that question in September of 2011, upon reading the lines on the pregnancy test. It was happening. God was blessing us with another precious child.

Lyla was thrilled to become a big sister. She understood that it meant sharing her things (even Mommy and Daddy) and teaching her little sibling everything she knew. She was ready.

For the short (long to her) 9 months that I carried her sweet brother our daughter matured and prepared for her new role as a big sister. With every thought that she had, Wyatt was a part of it. She had decided that she would help give him his bottle and play with him, but that she would NOT change his diaper. :) She would say things like, "When baby brother gets here I will push his stroller." or " Baby brother can have my old sippy cups, because I don't need them anymore." We, as parents, were not the only ones planning for our little man's arrival. Lyla was very much involved.

Lyla was at the doctor's office on that dreaded day in April, when we realized that "Baby Brother" no longer had a heart beat. She was not in the room, and I asked that she be taken home with a vague explanation of what was going on. I wanted to protect our little girl from the harsh reality that was staring us in the face-- she would never get to see her little brother. All of her time preparing for him was in vain. God wanted him more. Try telling that to a sweet-hearted little girl.

I am still not certain if not letting Lyla come to the hospital to see Wyatt was the "right" choice, but we did the best we could at the time. I would have loved to have a picture of my two children together; however, I couldn't fathom making my daughter hold the limp body of her little brother while trying to explain to her that he his body will never move like hers.

The look in Lyla's eyes when she first entered the hospital room to see me after the delivery is stuck in my memory forever. She was staring at my belly (which of course was smaller, but still appeared to be carrying a baby). She was trying so hard to make sense of everything in her own little mind. She kept her distance from me, and it hurt my heart. I realize now that everything was just as forgien to her as it was to us at the time. She had wanted that little baby just as much as we did, and he was gone in the blink of her eye.

From the beginning of our nightmare, we have told Lyla that when she feels the wind blowing, that Wyatt is saying hello to her. Now, our daughter is quite the realist, but somehow she believes us on this point. She has giggled out of the blue and proclaimed that, "Wyatt is tickling me!" when it's windy outside. She gets overly excited when she sees the pinwheels moving...little brother is having a conversation with her.

The day after the funeral Waylon and I took Lyla to the grave site with a silver star balloon in tow. We explained to her that it was Wyatt's special visiting place, but that she could talk to him anytime and any place that she wanted. Lyla eyed all of the headstones and gently asked if they were all babies. My heart tightened. She was worried that he needed diapers and toys in Heaven and that we should sent him some. I convinced her that Jesus has a giant toy box and will take care of all of Wyatt's needs. She reluctantly let her balloon "go to Heaven" and blew her baby brother numerous kisses while standing over his fresh grave adorned with wilting flowers.

Its simply not right that a small, sweet child should no anything of death, but our little girl is becoming very well versed on the subject. She has cried on numerous occasions when fear of going to Heaven by herself arises. She wonders if we will all go at the same time. I have no accurate answers for her. I can't lie to her and tell her that it will be a long time from now, because she has seen the journey of a newborn baby be cut short. She is scared. She wants to know if Jesus is going to give Wyatt back to us. She still refers to the guest bedroom as Wyatt's room. I try to correct her, but my throat is often working double time to hold back the wails.

To keep with the theme of Wyatt's nursery, my sister bought Lyla an airplane necklace. She wears it every day in honor of her sweet little brother that never got to come home, but is still alive in her heart.

The first picture of Wyatt that we shared with Lyla was the one of his feet. We rallied up enough courage to show her a full body shot of him the day of the funeral. Introducing the picture to her I said cheerily, "Isn't he cute?!" She replied with, " Yes, but he's a little red." An honest and sincere answer from a confused little girl.

Just the other day at the supermarket I noticed Lyla staring at a baby and his sibling in the buggy in front of us. She eventually turned to me and asked with a choppy and sad tone, "Am I still a big sister?" Yes, baby, yes you sure are.

She periodically says that she misses her baby brother and is sure to tell anyone with a new baby that,

 "We had a baby too, but he went to Heaven."

Fact.