Stuck

It's been almost three months since I lost my precious baby girl. Three months that feel like so much longer. I tried to picture her the other day and I couldn't really do it, not without looking at a picture on my phone.

After she died, I was sad to keep taking more pictures of Peanut and Biscuit. I have been, but I knew with each click of my camera, that was one more I'd have to scroll through to get to my pictures of Buttercup. I hated to think that we were making more memories that didn't include her.

But even though I was able to overcome that feeling of stuckness and take pictures of new memories, there are so many other ways I still feel paralyzed.

Like I've been wanting to make a photo collage of my best pictures of her. I bought the frames and everything. But they've just been sitting there gathering dust because I can't bring myself to do it. I like looking at pictures of her here and there to remember, but sitting down and looking at pictures from her whole life, knowing it's over...that just feels too hard.

And a few years ago, I started writing a book of devotions about ways Buttercup taught me about God. It later came to include Peanut and Biscuit. I had ample material, and I've been writing one devotion a week to keep up with it. Or at least, I was, until April. You see, I've had inspirations that I've just written about that week, but I also have a whole list of ideas for devotions I want to write. Many of which include Buttercup. I always thought I'd finish the book while she was alive. I had a great idea for a cover shot with the two of us. Writing it now feels so hard. I feel stuck.

I so want to do these things - make her photo collage, finish the book - to honor her life and the way she touched me. And I believe someday I will. I'd love to see my devotion book published some day, with a nice picture of her and her siblings on the inside cover. Then a lot of people can be touched by her the way I was.

If only I didn't feel so stuck. I just want to hold her in my arms again. To wrap her around my shoulders like my little lamb. To show her that book, published, and celebrate with her.

Oh, how I wish I could.

I keep having this image in my mind, of a time last summer when we went to pick her up from our friend after a vacation. She was relaxing in the shade in the backyard and didn't hear us at first. So our friend said, "Buttercup, look who's here..." and she turned and saw us. She jumped to her feet and ran towards us, licking our faces and jumping at us. I hold onto that image with the hope that one day when I die, I'll see her again and she'll run toward me just the same way.