Mackenzie, who was born seventeen years ago today with a very rare genetic defect called Trisomy 13. I miss her every day, but I feel a special emptiness on her birthday. Today, as the hours ticked slowly by, I couldn't help but wonder how life would be different if she had been healthy and survived. Would we play piano duets together? Would she be the beta reader of my novel? Would she enjoy making jewelry, too? Would we have shared that dark chocolate bar after dinner?
As a result of last year's post, I "met" a wonderful woman named Melissa, who also had a Trisomy 13 baby, and started a blog for him, called My Baby is an Angel. I had never spoken to anyone else who had been through that experience, and it meant a lot that she wrote to me. I have enjoyed getting to know her through her writing on her blog and on Facebook. She is a tremendous resource for anyone experiencing a difficult pregnancy.
I am truly blessed. I have three wonderful sons, work that fulfills me, loving family and friends - even two sweet young ladies who claim me as their mother on Facebook. But I am selfish. I want Mackenzie, too. Instead, I must content myself with a handful of memories and the occasional whisperings of her spirit. And I am reminded to make the most of every moment - to be loving and generous, authentic and open.
To be the kind of woman Mackenzie would be proud to call her mom.