Ellie, Where my Hope is Found

The wonderful, amazing Franchesca over at Small Bird Studios has started a blog hop dedicated to Hope. I am a day late. Mostly because I wasn't sure if this was a topic I could or wanted to write on right now. (Also, I have a lot of computer/ internet anxiety and am not totally sure I will figure out how to get linked... but that's a whole separate issue!) It's not that I am so down in the dumps that I don't have any hope. That's not it at all. I guess I'm not really sure where my reluctance lies.

Since October, our lives have been miserable. We have experienced more stress in the last four months than some people experience in their whole life. To say we have been tested, is an understatement. I am very wary of putting too much faith in anything that seems to be headed in the right direction. I was just starting to get a handle on Max's autism diagnosis, when Ellie was ripped away from us. I'm scared to stand up for fear of getting knocked back down.

But in saying this, I must also say that glimpses of hope find their way in anyways. Sometimes they are big and bold, sometimes small and subtle...

It's the pink and purple sunrises that greet me in the morning. It's the pink and purple sunsets that say goodnight in the evening. It's the heart shape that appeared in the bubble bath I drew for Max last night. It's the smell of Ellie on her stuffed giraffe that still sits in the corner of her crib. It's every time someone mentions Ellie's name. It's in these little moments, these gifts, that I know Ellie isn't as far away as she feels. It's here that my hope is found.

It's watching Max pick up his spoon and use it without us even prompting him. It's Max learning to take off his pants all by himself. It's that strong, extended eye contact from a little boy who prefers to live in his own little world. It's that amazing little smile and contagious laugh of his. It's here my hope is found.

It's in the painful stories of other mother's who have walked this same terrible path. It's the insight and wisdom that these devastated women share with other's in their same ugly shoes. Without these other angel mommy's I don't know where I would be. It's here where I have found comfort, true empathy, compassion and strength. It's here my hope is found.

These things might not seem like much to some people. But to me, they have been what's sustained me. The phone calls from friends, cards sent just because, gifts in memory of Ellie, meals, all these things remind me that it's not all tears, sorrow and pain. There is still joy, happiness and faith. They are nothing short of miracles. It's here my hope is found.

But mostly, my hope is found here-

in the beautiful, blue eyes of my little girl. My sweet, silly, fuzzy headed Peanut. In my heart, I know that Ellie would not, for one second, want her Mommy to stay trapped in the darkness left after she died. Ellie was the picture of happiness, joy and life. For me to go on without hope would mar the beauty of Ellie's memory. Ellie leaves behind a legacy of joy and light, not sadness and despair. It's Ellie's giggles and jabbering echoing in my memory. It's the pink and green blankie I lay my head down on at night. It's not at all how I thought it would be, but Ellie is where my hope is found.