In those early days, everything felt confusing. To be honest, that never really improved. I was in shock, I realise now. I became hyper productive, as though I were afraid to be idle and let my mind begin to do what it eventually did - replay the horror of losing her over and over again - the torturous 'what ifs'. If only I'd gone to the hospital sooner. If only that doctor had taken a little more time and made a little more effort... would she be with me today? I created a new playroom for Noah. I constantly found things to focus on to create keepsakes and mementos of my baby girl, so I would consistently have something to look forward to. To begin planning for Noah's first birthday and so on.
My family carried us through the hard parts. My beloved brother and sister in law raised the funds to cover Suri's funeral. He organised a woman to come to me to choose an urn for her and to make the arrangements, organise her death certificate and so forth. I'm so grateful for that. Every time I tried to figure out what to do I simply walked into a total state of confusion. Adam ultimately chose a gorgeous pink ceramic teddy bear as her urn. We never found out how much it all costed. The copious amount of flowers became a temporary shrine in our kitchen, and I never stopped burning candles. I then decided the best way to honour her was to ask for my friends and family to light a candle for her on the evening of the 4th of January and post a pic for us. Absolutely everyone did it and those images warmed my heart. The next day was my birthday. My brother and sister in law again stepped up and organised an early dinner of seafood by the beach (as I obviously wasn't allowed to go anywhere thanks to the mandates). We let Noah play on the grass and I picked at my food, drank my wine and smiled like I wasn't coming apart inside. And just like that, those hurdles had passed and we had our baby girl's ashes back with us where she belonged.
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