The pink balloon

Yesterday we went to a Fourth of July parade. We go to this particular parade every year because my Dad is in it. He is a Shriner, and he drives one of those little yellow Jeeps that buzzes around in circles zipping dangerously close to parade goers toes. There's something about seeing my 79 year old father zooming around in a little vehicle propelled by what amounts to a powerful lawnmower engine (with a jeweled fez on his head, no less) that makes my heart smile.

Much like attending the parade has become a tradition for us, so has buying balloons at the parade for the kids. I watched yesterday as Rob handled the all important balloon buying transaction just a few minutes after we arrived. Kylie and Phillip went with their Dad to pick out which color they wanted, and I stayed with Bella and my Mom. I watched with amusement as I saw my wonderful husband dutifully request a red balloon for Phillip, a pink balloon for Kylie, and another pink balloon for Bella, who usually gets stiffed in situations like this since at the tender age of 2.5 months old she really doesn't care much about balloons. Just as I thought to myself "there, each of my babies has a balloon", one of the pink balloons slipped from Robbie's grasp and floated up into the brilliant blue sky. My chest tightened and my eyes filled with tears as I watched the balloon drift up towards the fluffy white clouds. At that moment it hit me, each of my babies truly did have a balloon, even the one I lost a year ago this week.

I was only five weeks pregnant when I miscarried. Aside from my friends on-line, my husband, and my best friend, nobody knows it ever occurred. Everything happened so fast, ttc for less than a month, a positive pregnancy test, then a mere thirty hours later the beginning of the end. For one short day I knew I was holding another precious baby inside me. It's amazing that you can love someone you only knew for one day, someone you never had the chance to meet or hold in this life.

Through watery eyes I looked at Bella, who arrived one month after the baby that I lost would have been due, and at Kylie and Phillip, both filled with anticipation at seeing Poppa and the rest of the parade. Watching the pink balloon ascend skyward yesterday morning I was filled with love for the baby that I have yet to meet, and for the three that I have.