Missing Pieces

I'm not the same person I was this time last year. I'm not even the same person I was 6 weeks ago. So much has changed. And so much will never be the same. There are pieces missing now. Pieces of me that have been left behind somehow over the past year. Different pieces in different places, but they all have one thing in common. They each helped make up the person I was, and I'm not sure if I will get them all back.
There is a piece of me in the ultrasound room at my doctors office, still hanging on to her words: "There seems to be some problems". There is a piece of me back in the office of the neonatologist, still reeling about how I am suppose to decide what means of resuscitation I do or do not want performed for my daughter. And there is a piece somewhere on highway 270 where I found out that Sydne indeed did not have any kidneys. These pieces I'm sure I'll get back over time. Some I'm already starting to feel again. And as time moves forward into further resolution, they will find there way back. But there are a few pieces that I'm not sure about.
There is a piece of my heart in room 3 of the Labor and Delivery floor of the Hospital. It's funny. After Sydne was born, they told us we could go home whenever we wanted to. Basically, we didn't have to stay the whole 2 days the insurance paid for and people would usually stay for. And while the warmth of my bed at home was appealing, we stayed the entire time allotted by our insurance. Not because it was a medical necessity, but simply because I could not get myself to leave. I would have stayed in that room forever if they allowed me to, as if I knew I would leave something behind. I think about that room wondering how many other parents went through something similar between those four walls. How many different pieces of how many different hearts remain, shadows of the past. How many tears have stained the floor, and how many held hope as ours did, or were there some lost in complete emptiness. A piece of me remains there. A piece of who I am as a woman and a mother. A piece that perhaps has woven itself into the tapestry of the life of room 3.
There is a piece of me off Manchester road beneath a beautiful tree. There, amidst the stepping stones of life and death, among the purest of the pure life can offer, there I am. I think, had I been alone, I would have stood beside her casket all day and night. Again, wanting to hold on as long as possible to whatever I could. Instead, I placed the most beautiful pink roses I have ever seen on top of her grave site and kissed her one last time, from my mouth to my hand to her heart. And then, as I walked away, another piece of me stayed behind. A perfect piece of my heart buried itself that day, nestled next to the most miraculous creation. As if saying I've protected you up 'till now and will continue forever.
There is one last piece that is gone. But this one I did not leave. This one I gave freely. There, in that hospital room, as I held my beautiful Sydne, as her perfect heart slowly began to cease from beating. There, just before she would go to see her heavenly Daddy, I gave her the only thing I could think of: a piece of me. A piece of my heart that was created for and belongs only to her. A piece of her mommy that she can hold on to till we embrace again. And for me, the security that I will always be with her. That she will always know her mommy's love for her. That I will always be a part of her just as she is a part of me.
These last three pieces I may never get back. Truthfully, I do not want them back. They don't belong in me anymore. They belong there in room 3, perhaps if only to give some sort of strength to the next set of parents. They belong there in that precious grave, a piece of me lying with her, as only a mother could. And they belong with her, that piece that would be lonely had it stayed in my heart. That piece of me that needs to be with her. Those pieces of me that perhaps were hers all along. And while that means there may be holes inside, there may be an emptiness, a longing for everything I lost, an aching for my daughter, I do not fear that. For I know that God can take those holes and create something beautiful.