Rockabye Baby.

There is something magical about a baby. Wouldn't you have to agree? Such a small little life. A little soul. So innocent and fresh from the hands of the Lord.

Bliss. 

Yes, a baby is bliss.

Now as a mother, there is divine treasure in having a daughter. Just as there is for a father, who longs for a son. I have two boys, and don't mistake me for thinking my boys are anything but delight in my heart. Because I couldn't and won't imagine my life without their unbridled spirits. They have showed me a world outside of my own girly wonderment. But again, I believe every mother wonders what it would be like to have a daughter. Someone to relate to. Someone who lives on Venus with us, rather than the enchanting confusion coming from Mars.

I've mentioned before since our loss of Savannah, that I long for another girl. No. Not for me actually. Yes, I love my girls. But, I long for another girl for a much deeper reason. Sarah.

Growing up, I had two older brothers. There was such an age seperation, that a bonding relationship never became. But these brothers of mine, these two close in age siblings, had something in common. Their gender. You can just relate better to your own gender growing up I believe. I remember feeling like an outsider, watching a communication that I have always lacked. My cousin became my "sister." And from slightest touch and feeling of what a sister was like, I couldn't imagine growing up, having a daughter, and having her grow through life without that relationship.

I don't have a diluted vision of what sisters are. I know, boy or girl, they are not always going to see eye to eye. They aren't always going to braid each others hair and enjoy sharing secrets. But I believe siblings go much deeper than that.... And I wanted that with Savannah. I want that now for Sarah.

This Christmas, all Sarah wanted for Christmas, was a baby doll. Now, Sarah has never ever been into playing with baby dolls. Barbies yes, dolls no. I couldn't just pick her out any old baby doll. I didn't care, what sounds it made, what movements it mimicked, or how much it cost. I knew that Sarah's desire for a baby doll Christmas morning came from an emptyness she was feeling too. Sarah's arms were empty. And even though she is only a mere six years old, I know with all my heart, her arms were longing for Savannah to fill them these past holidays. This baby doll had to have big brown eyes, and a round head. That was all that mattered. Now, that may seem like a simple task... let me tell you, it's not. Common baby doll eye color these days?:: Blue. There is nothing wrong with blue eyes, and I probably would have gotten a blue eyed baby had it not been under these circumstances.

My mother and I found, Savannah doll, at Target late one night Christmas shopping. The store was quiet and dead. I picked that brown eyed doll up and held her in my arms. I lifted the bottle up to her mouth, and stared as this plastic toy's face moved in up and down motions as if to really be drinking its bottle. I giggled, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable cherishing a moment with Savannah doll. "Sarah might wonder where her doll is one night, only to find me rocking and feeding it in Savannah's room," I said outloud. Again I chuckled trying to maintain the tears I could feel welling up in my eyes. My moms heart ached as she looked at me, and my plastic, brown eyed Savannah.

Months have passed since then, and I reassure you that I haven't found myself rocking that baby doll... atleast in my own time. Two nights ago, while tucking the kids into bed, Sarah asked me to hold her baby doll while she situated all of her beloved animals surrounding her. There I was, rocking that brown eyed doll again in my aching arms. She cooed and giggled at me, as if she really did love me. Delicately handing the baby over to my Sarah, the doll started to cry. I quickly kissed Sarah goodnight and rushed out of the room. Standing outside of the now dark bedroom, I put my hand up to my chest trying to find the strength to breathe again.

The pretend baby, the plastic doll, cried as if it was longing my arms... just as much as my arms are longing to hold, "her."