Missing Alma

Aidan grinned from ear to ear and happily ran to the playground. Once he got there, he was a little more cautious. With some prompting, I finally convinced him to climb the stairs so he could go down the slide.

As he started up the stairs, I looked down to check on Kimball, who was still sleeping soundly in the baby carrier against my chest. I looked up again and saw that Aidan had made it to the top of the tall, brown slide. He sat down, smiled, and seemed to want to come down, but didn't seem sure if he could.

I kept saying, "Come on, Aidan! You can do it! Come on down - it'll be fun! Wait, where are you going? Yeah, come on down! You've done it before!" After a lot of prompting, down he slid until he came to the gradual stop at the end of the slide. Once at the end, he hopped back onto the ground, looked my way, and headed toward the stairs to start the process again.

After he was done with the slide, we walked unsteadily across the wood chips to the horses on springs. It was his first time being on one, since the park we always went to in Rexburg didn't have any. He wasn't quite sure what to do, so I asked him, "Do you want to get on? Here, let me help you." I awkwardly bent down, Kimball still in the baby carrier, and plopped him into the saddle.

A little kid who we had met at the slide and looked to be about 5 years old ran over and jumped onto the horse next to Aidan's. He asked me to hold the little toy he had with him so he could rock away as fast as he could without losing his toy. Aidan stared at the little boy and watched his every move.

By watching the little boy, Aidan slowly made the connection that the horse was meant for rocking, and oh! he could put his feet on the metal stirrups to get more momentum.

Feet on the stirrups.

Aidan grinned and laughed as he made the horse go faster and faster for a few seconds and then he went back to watching the little boy, seeing if he could learn anything new again.

Then a little girl came along, jumped on a horse, rode it for a second, jumped back off, and ran to the sand pit. After that, Aidan wanted to go to the sand pit, too. So I gave the little boy back his toy, grabbed Aidan's hands and pulled him off the horse, and off to the sand pit we went...where Aidan did a lot of standing around and watching, trying to figure out how the sand pit worked. Finally, after watching the other kids for a little bit and after a little prompting from me, he carefully walked over and started playing in the dirt. It wasn't long, though, before he stopped what he was doing and went back to watching the kids all around him.

While Aidan was trying to get his bearings in the sand pit, I stood off to the side, trying to let him be independent. As I stood there, one mom asked me how old Aidan was.

I told her, "21 months." 

She smiled, nodded, and said, "He's a cutie." 

"Thanks! He likes watching more than he likes playing with other kids. I don't think I get out with him enough," I said, a little apologetically.

She smiled and said, "Oh, that's okay," and pointed out her little girl. "That's how my daughter was. She recently turned three and is just barely starting to play more independently when we come here. I think it's just a personality thing. Her older sister was a little more crazy and bold when she was that age, but my three-year-old used to be content to just hang out around me and watch the other kids play."

At that point, she got distracted and Aidan started wandering back to the horses, so I kind of waved goodbye and followed Aidan. He got on the horse again, but didn't seem as interested, so we headed toward the swings. I asked him if he wanted to get on, and he replied in his cute little toddler way of affirming that, yes, he did want to get on the swing.

Once on the swing, Aidan had the time of his life! He laughed and kept saying, "Mooooore, mooooore!" So, I stood there, took pictures, grabbed at his feet, and pushed him higher and higher.

As I pushed and played with Aidan, a knot tightened in my stomach and I had to blink back tears in the midst of laughing with him. For some reason, every time I get on the swings and swing with Aidan, or when he swings by himself and I push him, I think of Alma. Every time. And as I pushed, I thought of the reason why this time at the park, my heart felt heavy. It wasn't just because it was a new and unfamiliar place or because it was the first time I was at the park by myself with two kids and felt a new and awkward carrying a baby around and following a toddler, trying to make it look like I knew what I was doing. It was more than that because, really, none of that was really bothering me because I love what I do - trying to be a good mom to my kids. 

My heart felt heavy because of how careful and cautious Aidan was around this new and unfamiliar park. He was attempting to play with kids he didn't know - ones who were older than him and seemed to know how the different entertainment on the playground worked. And what the mom said stuck out to me about her little daughter who was also cautious. She was the second child and Aidan is the second child. I've heard from a lot of moms that the second baby tends to be calmer and easier than the first baby (obviously, not always the case), and it made me wonder what Alma would be like. Would he be more crazy and bold like the mom's older daughter? Would I be out of breath chasing him around, while also keeping an eye on Aidan and Kimball? 

At that moment, I wished Alma was there. I wished he was there so I could experience him. Experience his personality on a day-to-day basis and see him play with his younger brothers. I could just imagine him with high energy, running around everywhere, while pulling Aidan along and showing him how things worked. Being the older brother and taking care of his younger brother. Showing him the ropes and getting in some trouble now and then. 

It's hard being an angel momma. The "what if's" are always there and my invisible child is always lingering in moments like these where I remember I'd be watching over three boys and not just two. The moments where I try to imagine what my life would be like if I were raising Alma right now along with Aidan and Kimball.

These heart-wrenching, lump-in-the-throat moments hit me like a ton of bricks, and it's hard to catch my breath and get back up again. Grief isn't ever-present anymore, but in the moments it comes, it hurts just as much as the days following Alma's death did.

In times like these, I'm even more grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and for His love for me. They are reminders to grow closer to Him and rely on Him - in both good times and bad times. They're also reminders that I haven't forgotten Alma, and he's still a huge influence in my life. I'm so grateful for that! That he is a part of our family and always will be. I just want to live worthy enough to see and hold him again. I know I can claim that promise of forever families and eternal life if I just turn to my Savior and seek for the peace and comfort that comes only through Him.

"Faith in Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice is, and forever will be, the first principle of the gospel and the foundation upon which our hope for 'peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come' is built. In our search for peace amidst the daily challenges of life, we’ve been given a simple pattern to keep our thoughts focused on the Savior, who said: 'Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me. I am Jesus Christ.'" 

("A Pattern for Peace," W. Christopher Waddell, 2016)