Page 74 of Hope After Loss

I take Kaela from her arms. She makes a grunting noise at being disturbed before snuggling into the crook of my arm. Then, I reach a hand out to help Anna up.

“My car is still at Leona’s,” she says as a yawn escapes her.

“How about I take you two home and you can get a ride to pick up your car tomorrow?”

“I hate to make you do that again,” she says.

“I don’t mind. You’re on the way home.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

She relents easily, so I know she’s exhausted.

Anna says her good-byes while I transfer the car seat to my truck.

I should get one of these so we don’t have to play musical car seats.

The strange thought crosses my mind, and I shake it off.

Yeah, that would be a turn-on for any female you meet. Whose baby seat is that?

I laugh at myself as I fetch the girls.

When we make it to her house, I carry Kaela as Anna lets us in. I follow her to the nursery and lay the baby down in her bed. Anna stares at her, and I can see the heaviness in her expression.

“You aren’t still worrying over that stuff Mom and Leona were spouting about, are you?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath and runs her hand over Kaela, tucking her blanket around her. “No.”

She looks up at me. “It’s a strange place to live,” she says.

“Where’s that?”

“The in-between.”

“I’m not following,” I say.

“It’s that place where the highest high point and the lowest low point of your life happen simultaneously. To live in both the darkness and the light. It’s hard to explain what it’s like to dwell amid the joy and the sadness, all at once. The beauty and the pain, the hope and the loss ebb and flow,” she explains.

I get it then.

“Kaela’s birth and Mike’s death.”

She nods. “For some reason, they are intertwined in my mind. I can’t feel one without the other. It’s like my emotions are always at war inside of me. I feel guilty if I’m too happy because I should be sad. Then, I feel guilty if I’m too sad because Kaela deserves a happy mother.”

“I think it’s okay to feel what you feel at any given moment without any guilt at all,” I tell her.

She sniffles.

I walk over and wrap my arms around her from behind.

“The two events happened so close together. I’m sure it’s hard to think of one without the other. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to, and maybe you never will. That’s okay. Because one day, you will be healed enough to feel those things and let them wash over you for a moment before letting them go. There isn’t a right or wrong way to deal with grief, Anna.”

“I just don’t want her to ever feel like her being here causes me pain.”

“She won’t. You light up when she’s in your arms, and so does she. All that baby knows is love and security. Don’t ever doubt that.”

She looks up at me over her shoulder. “Why are you so good to us?” she asks.