1. Attempting to avoid notice or attention, typically because of guilt or a belief that discovery would lead to trouble; secretive.
I don't know if this is normal amongst babyloss parents, and maybe I'll regret outing myself here,but I am guilty of furtively browsing the internet, and scrutinising photos of baby girls. I don't really go looking for them, but if I happen upon a cute photo of a little girl who might be around the same age Florence would be now, I'll look closer...I'll wonder if that little girl has longer hair than Florence would by now,would I be able to put a little bow in it? Would Florence still have that touch of red in her hair? Would her eyes be bluer than the little girl I'm looking at, her wrists chubbier?
I feel kinda guilty doing this, like I'm stealing little bits of little girls and trying to build my own, make her alive, Maybe that's how Mary Shelley (a fellow babyloss Mama) felt when she wrote Frankenstien?
I know this little excercise is futile, I can't make Florence alive again, and honestly it's not usually an enjoyable past time, it stabs at my heart,but I still do it.
Yesterday, I almost came undone because of it. I clicked on a link,a little toddler in a beautiful little dress, and little red shoes. I told myself I wanted a closer look at the dress, research you see for future pattern drafting. I clicked through several photos,looking at seam details, and wondering to myself, then it hit me, the caption, the little girl in the photo with the chubby wrists, and the bow in her hair was called Florence. I had to steady myself by holding on to my desk, as the room span and I tried to stop the tears from springing to my eyes.
Regaining my composure,I scolded myself for looking,but since that moment,I've felt so guilty, and so very stupid.
I can't conjure her up,I can't know how she would've been, I can only know what she was,but that was so brief.
I look at her photos every day, sometimes I examine every little crease on her face and fingers, and sometimes it hurts too much to look too closely.
I expect I'll always look just a little bit too long, and a little bit too longingly at girls the age she should be, and I guess it'll always sting just a little to hear her name belonging to someone else.