Whispers of Pink

Dear Phoenix,

The other day I was putting some of your clothes away. I really loved looking at all the outfits you wore as a newborn. It is hard to believe you were ever that little. The box of clothes are still sitting out in the living room. Lid off – so there are all your pink clothes, just sitting there whispering to me. Whispering memories of you sleeping and playing in them. Learning to roll and crawl. You wore a lot of pink. Mommy got really tired of people thinking you were a boy because of your name so I overcompensated and put you in a ton of pink. That box is just sitting there. One of the few pink things left out. There are a couple toys here and there. A blanket. There just isn’t enough pink…just whispers of it. One day there might not be any pink left out. That will be a sad day. I miss pink. I miss my girl. I miss you.

Nothing is the same without you. Folding diapers has to be one of the biggest changes. To start you aren’t there to help me. Okay, I admit you weren’t actually that helpful, but you had fun scattering them everywhere. Second, there are no pink diapers. No purple diapers. Because there is no you. Little brother had his 6 month pictures taken, and you were not there to make mischief. He also had a Valentine photo shoot with some of your friends. That was hard. I wanted you to be there so bad. I could feel your absence. Last Valentine’s day you were in 4 casts. Your brand new fingers and toes were healing.

Whispers are interesting. They are told in secret. They are meant to keep things hidden. That is sort of how Mommy and Daddy feel. That while we are a family of 4, people only see 3. We have this secret child. If one looks closely, they may see a smudged hand print on the window or a pink ball among the toys. But, they will never see the whole picture. One day we will all be together. That will be a marvelous day.

Mommy loves you.