Nina and the Butterfly.

I am in RI, alone with the girls, until Josh comes to join me tomorrow.  Night #1 was hellacious trying to get both girls down to sleep, but last night was total sweetness.  As I lay sandwiched between Elena and Nina, a deep gratitude washed over me.  Feeling Elena's deep and even breath against my back with Nina's quick and staggered baby breaths in front of me was utterly peaceful.  And then I had to ruin it by getting out of bed to wash off my Auntie El face and brush my teeth.

Last weekend our family marked Nina's entry to the world with a welcoming ceremony.  Another little being was honored, as well, and I like to think of them as being forever linked.  An old friend gave birth to a beautiful baby girl back in January of this year, a delivery whose complications left baby Sofia with irreparable brain damage.  On Valentine's Day, Sofia's parents finally took Sofia home to the room they had so lovingly prepared for her, and said goodbye to their long-awaited daughter.

I have thought of Sofia, Lori, and Mike daily since learning of Sofia's birth, concentrating my heart and mind on that little warrior, sending many prayers and healing thoughts her way.  When choosing Nina's name, I couldn't help but think of Sofia and notice how lovely her name sounded following Nina.  Thankfully, Lori gave me permission use Sofia's name.  All of Lori's friends know that 8i8 is a tiny butterfly, a sign from Sofia to all who are open that her spirit lives on.  I had thought to ask one of my nieces to bring a butterfly-themed piece of jewelry to Nina's ceremony, but that thought had gotten lost.  While my parents were out doing errands, I asked my mom to pick up a candle to light in Sofia's honor at the start of the ceremony.  In fact, I didn't really tell her what I intended to use the candle for, and certainly hadn't shared the butterfly significance.  My parents got back to our house after their errands, and I wandered out to find a white candle adorned with a simple brown butterfly.

Nina's welcoming, like Elena's, was pretty free-flowing and spontaneous.  I have recently been sharing a little pearl from a colleague with anyone who will listen--when I expressed sadness over not putting more thought into Elena's welcoming ceremony, she replied, "Well that just means it'll be spontaneous, which means it has to come from the heart."  What a great sentiment and comfort to two parents who are always flying by the seat of their pants.

I scurried to find some nugget of a wish for Nina, and came up with Izumi Shikibu's Watching the Moon.  I had heard a piece on NPR regarding the personality of second children, and how often when there are older children in the family, the younger ones either subconsciously or with awareness make their own place in the family by being "different" from the other child(ren).  My sister, in her words of wisdom, told Nina that being the little sister allows you to learn from the older one's mistakes in doing things the hard way (and also in how to "get away with things"!).  So my wish for Nina is that learn from Elena, but also have the confidence and insight to know her true self with the clarity of Shikibu's poem:

Watching the moon
at midnight,
solitary, mid-sky,
I knew myself completely,
no part left out.

Lying in bed last night between my daughters, I knew myself completely as a mother.  Again I thought of Lori.  I am pretty sure she will birth another child and I imagined her snuggling that baby, the rapid, uneven breaths of an infant.  As I felt Elena's warm little body against mine, I thought of how Lori might sense an emptiness at her back.  Just as quickly, I realized that supposition was completely incorrect.  Surely there will be a fullness at her back, warm and glowing, with the life that was and the spirit that lives on.