Diary for My LIttle Girl

My mind feels like a jumbled mess this morning.  I'm hoping that writing will help to make some sense of it, but it might just be... a jumbled mess.

Today is February 4.  My other daughter, Missy, has an appointment this morning with a plastic surgeon.  When we got Missy as a foster baby, she had a cleft palate, among other 'malformations'.  (I hate that word.)  So when she was 10 months old, she had surgery to repair her palate.  We've been seeing a plastic surgeon about once per year to follow her progress and make sure there aren't any fistulas (holes) in her palate.

Missy had one of her follow-ups with the plastic surgeon on October 1 last year.  The day after I was admitted to the hospital.  My saintly parents took her over to the great big scary maze at Baptist hospital and spent almost the entire day doing Missy's speech test and waiting to see the plastic surgeon.  That night, my mom and Jason brought the kids to the hospital to see me, and I vaguely remember my mom telling me something about the surgeon finding a fistula and wanting to do another surgery sometime in the future.

I guess the future has arrived.  Baptist's automated appointment reminder lady called me last week to remind me of an appointment with the plastic surgeon February 4 at 10am.  I'm sure my mom told me about this appointment, but I didn't put it in my calendar.  It's not been on my radar at all.  And (everything else aside), it's not a big deal.  It's an appointment.  We're going to talk to the plastic surgeon about scheduling surgery (I think).

But it is a big deal.  It's like the week of October 1st all over again.  The week we fought hard and purposefully for Elliana's life.  The week she was born too soon.  And the week she died.

Surgeons are busy people.  I'm sure that Missy is just 'another patient', and that Dr. T. probably won't remember anything about her last visit.  But... what if he remembers?  That my parents brought her?  Will he ask questions?  (Probably not.)

We saw Missy's ENT doctor at the beginning of November - I think he did remember that when Missy had her ear tube surgery in September, I was pregnant.  And he asked some 'indirect' questions.

I'm not scared of the questions.  I don't mind questions.  I think I'm scared of whatever emotion may choose to display itself when I try to answer the question.  It's the emotions and the tears (and the occasional shoe-throwing fantasy) that aren't predictable.

And... I can't help but think that by now, Elliana would have seen a plastic surgeon.  Probably Missy's plastic surgeon.  Elliana had a cleft lip.  And a cleft palate.  Had she lived, I would have been taking her to the great big scary maze at Baptist.  I would have been carrying my infant girl into that office.  The surgeon would have been making a plan to repair her lip, and then her palate.  She may have even had her first surgery by now.  

If Elliana had lived, going to Baptist wouldn't be just about Missy anymore.  Elliana would have been making her mark there, too.  And she would have been getting lots of ooh's and aah's over all of her blond hair.

My heart hurts more this morning.  I miss her.