Maddie's third birthday came and went quietly yesterday.

July 6 is usually actually worse than July 7.  That was the day that we found out I was in labor, that we found out she wouldn't make it.  The day I felt her last kick.  I usually have flashbacks at different times on that day.  At 11:00 a.m., I'll usually think that is the time I realized I was in labor, 7:30 or so was her lack kick, etc. 

The 7th, on the other hand...  She was born at 12:08 a.m., so I really didn't have a whole lot of time pregnant on that day.  On the 7th, I got to hold her the first and last times.  On the 7th, I got to sing to her, to tell her I loved her, to look at her precious face.  The 7th has a lot of good moments, as bittersweet as they are.

Alice drew some pictures for "Mannie," as she calls her.  I had some difficulty finding a place that had helium, but the small flower shop I did find tucked Alice's photos into the balloons, and we went to the same park where we did last year to release them.  The problem with having an almost-two-year-old who is INCREDIBLY active (and a bit of a runner) is that it is difficult to watch those beloved balloons drift off - you have to keep one eye on your Earth baby.  Even when I had to turn and couldn't watch them fly away anymore, though, I still knew they were there, I kept checking for them and thinking of them... just like Maddie.

We love you so much, Maddie.  Always and forever.