I have a tattoo for Zoey—an anchor on my wrist. It’s a constant reminder of her. And a starting point for me if someone asks what it means. I can explain. I can talk about her.
And I have a necklace. I can’t take credit for it—it was a gift, but it’s perfect. An anchor, of course, with her name etched on one side and intertwined hearts on the other. And it just reminds me of how she’d lay with me—heart to heart.
Another friend created a one of a kind piece of art for us and it’s amazing. It features a set of three panels. One representing Joe, one for Zoey and one for me. And on it is an anchor and a chain connecting us all.
Further proof that my friends are much more creative and talented than I am, is the stone we’re working on to place where my dad is buried. When I saw the artwork the monument company created, I cried. It just didn’t fit my sweet little girl. It was harsh and angry. Thankfully, my friend stepped in and has worked to create something that I really love. It’s perfect and sweet (as perfect and sweet as a piece of stone can be) and is everything I pictured.
I put a lot of pressure on myself when creating things for Zoey. I want everything to be perfect and as wonderful as she is. I was more nervous planning her memorial service than I was our wedding. But I’m proud of what I do for her. I’m proud of my involvement with Wings and BJC’s Hospice House. I’m proud that I’m running in her memory and raising money for Children’s Miracle Network in her honor. I’m proud of this blog. It definitely helps me express what our journey has felt like. A good friend of mine recently opened up to me about her own loss and it overwhelmed me knowing I could help her even in a small way. It has served its purpose. She’s not alone. I am not alone. We’re in this together and we’re allowed to talk about our babies and grieve them and love them and mother them. For that I am so grateful.