Our little Sephora’s life has taken up so many different types of symbols, meanings, and truths. My husband feels closest to her while he’s working in the garden. I have to say, I’m still sort of searching for that feeling of closeness to her. Her ashes are sitting next to me as I write this. The teddy bear that plays the sound of her heart beat is across the room. When I became pregnant, I never imagined my first baby would not come home from the hospital. I’d never heard of babies dying after they were born. My ignorance told me that some women miscarry very early in pregnancy. Some miscarry in the first trimester. Some miscarry later. Some even give birth to babies that are stillborn. One thing I do notice, is some women choose to talk about their losses, other women choose not to talk about it. I can’t stop talking about our precious little Sephora. So many questions run through my head these days… How did my body not recognize that the precious little person we created was sick? Why did she have to have Trisomy 13, one of the most rare and most severe chromosomal abnormalities that exists? Why did God choose me to carry such a beautiful baby only to call her home to Heaven a short time later? When she was born, she looked just like my husband. She was perfect! Why did she have to die? Why didn’t God choose to heal her and to fix all of her internal defects? We prayed every day! What did we do wrong?! Did we not pray enough? Were we praying for the wrong things? Why?
When we came home from the hospital 4 weeks ago without our precious Sephora, I visited a small area under the tree in our back yard that my husband titled, “Sephora’s Garden.” Her small little garden is shaped like a heart, and the plants in her garden have symbolic meaning. The White (grief) and Pink (love) Bleeding Hearts have finished blooming for the season, but the Blue Angel Hosta and the Angel’s Wing Begonia continue to grow. I feel close to Sephora when I stand over her garden. I imagine her laying with me under the big tree, cooing while I sing to her. Like my husband finds closeness with Sephora through gardening, the one symbol that has taken meaning for me, is the Butterfly. The day we came home, I stood and overlooked Sephora’s Garden, cried over top of it, and walked to the front door of the house to go inside to lay down. Before I walked in, I stopped and admired the rest of the flowers my husband and friend Jodi had planted while I was in the hospital. As I stood under the trellis, a small yellow butterfly landed on the Purple Sage next to me and stayed for a while. When I tried to get a picture, it flew away. That was my sign, my symbol. A simple butterfly.
I find butterflies surround me almost everywhere. I have a butterfly charm bracelet with Sephora’s name and birthday on it, cards, books, pictures, and jewelry box with butterflies too! Yesterday, I took my husband to a beautiful garden as a surprise, and a reason to be with each other outside of our home. He marveled at the different types of plants, trees, and ground coverings. We visited the Butterfly House, and were amazed! Butterflies were gliding through the air everywhere we looked! They were peaceful. Beautiful. Perfect. Sephora is my butterfly house! Who knew a creature so small, fragile, crush-able, colorful, and light as air, could have such a short beautiful life and a story to tell? Yes. The sweetness, amazement, beauty, perfection, and simplicity of a butterfly is my Sephora.
2 Corinthians 5:17 ESV
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.