a place to think: All this talk of butterflies

A couple months ago I bought a new car. I was so excited. I sent a message to a couple people with pictures of the car and said, "now it just needs some butterflies." I always thought that driving someone else's car was awkward because you were unfamiliar with pretty much all of it. Everything from where the lights could be found to turn them on and instead the windshield wipers start going, to parking on the wrong side of the gas pump and having to get back in and weave around the lot like an idiot to get to the right side always make me feel inept and uncomfortable. It was so long since I had a newer car and in fact I've never owned a new-off-the-lot car that it felt so good to be excited and tell people. Butterflies would make my new ride feel more like home not because I wanted the adornment but because I still wish I'd be driving 3 girls around instead of two and that was my way of making sure she always rode with me. Most responded with the same excitement as me, but one person responded with the comment that "butterflies don't go with everything." Now anyone who knows me knows how much butterflies mean to me, and as for the motivation of the comment itself I've moved beyond it. Maybe I got them on a bad day, at a bad moment, I don't know it doesn't matter any longer. I don't hold grudges or hurts because life is too short. Since then, I'm coming to conclusion that however ill-spoken the comment was at the time, and although it hurt me when it was said, the message of the comment is true. Butterflies do not go with everything.

Butterflies do not go with broken hearts or sadness or death. Once the person is gone, no amount of butterflies can go together to have that person hug you or smile at you or hold your hand. She may be my butterfly but I'll never hold my 7lb 15 oz baby not watch her turn into a silly and beautiful two year old.

Over a year ago I ordered a bear from a website ran by another grieving mother. The website is a legacy to her daughter. They created weighted bears that are as heavy as the childwas that had gone to heaven. They are as heavy as your physical loss. I received my bear in the mail yesterday and it is absolutely beautiful and perfect. G wanted to sit with Gabraella bear all day. She sat next to it and watched tv. She wanted the bear to ride her rocking horse and play cow girl with her. She called her "she" and "her". We had to go to the bank and she wanted to bring her with. When I said no she then wanted me to leave the tv on for Gabraella Bear so she wouldn't feel lonely. (I obliged, when a little girl asks a question like that, of course you say yes.). When we got home she wanted to play dress up with her. I told G we didn't have clothes for bear. G's response was to tell me it was ok, since the bear was little still she would show Gabraella Bear what she could do when she got bigger. She told me how heavy the bear was, but then went on to say that a big sister is always strong enough to carry something so heavy. And I watched and listened. And while my heart was warmed by the antics of an almost four year old little girl, it also broke into tiny fragile pieces. How terribly wrong that she should play with just a bear with a butterfly bow and not her real sister.

Butterflies do not go with playing dress up. Butterflies do not go with play time. Butterflies can not serve tea or ride like a cowgirl. Butterflies cannot sing along with "Frozen" on tv.

But... as was shown today, butterflies can stimulate love, and joy, and conquer fear. We went to the butterfly conservatory in Canada. G couldn't wait to point them out to me, S kind of wanted them to land on her, sort of. I just wanted to be visited.

Sky was petrified about hurting them until I got her to hold one.

And her fear was conquered with a smile. My heart soared, I'm so proud of her.

And then there was G. My fearless loveable warrior of light and spotter of butterflies. She doesn't have much but she'd offer me her world while she sweetly and proudly pointed out every butterfly in it.

And then there's Gabbie.

And as we walked around and had to be careful where we walked I came across a wounded butterfly sitting in the middle of the path. A Gabbie butterfly. So I helped her up and there she sat.

On my finger safe from feet. And she visited with me for many minutes. Flapping softly her wounded wings. Wounded just like my Gabbie. And beautiful, perhaps to beautiful in its wounded state to be from this Earth, just like my Gabbie.

So, no, butterflies don't go with everything,but if they conquer fear, bring joy, and closeness to all my babies I'll make sure they are everywhere. Butterflies are a constant reminder of how quickly life can skip away, and they remind me to enjoy the people who mean anything to me, because you literally never know when they are going to be gone.