A Box Full of Hope and Love

Under a small table in the corner of our bedroom live a box and a bag with two glass jars.
In these containers, I keep all of Tikva's things.
Two months of life all in a box and a bag of jars.

I can't really say that all of Tikva's life is in these.
Her life is so much more than things, I know that.
But it's still impressive to see her things all together now.

Here is what they contain...

In one jar are her Lambie and her Duckie.
When I open the jar and breathe deeply from it, I can smell Tikva still.
In the other jar are her blankie, her hat from Alex that she wore outside, and her little kipa she wore during her last 10 days of life.
When I open this jar and breathe deeply, I can smell a different part of her too.

In the bag with the jars are her prayer flags from our blessing gathering in early May.
The flags that hung above her bed in the ICN the entire time she was there - following her when she would change spots.
We would like to have a quilt made with these and a few other items.
Any quiltmakers out there who could help us with this creation?

Then I open her box of treasures and find some other things that will be incorporated into Tikva's quilt:
Two hand-made onesies from Aleta, mom of Deidre, who is married to Dave's cousin Dan and is also new mom to Isaac.
Her personalized onesie from Carol that reads, "I'm Tikva... and they're with me."
Her red silk "camicino" from our Italian friends, Sara and Andrea, that reads, "fortuna.
The blue and green heart hat that Alex knit for Tikva before she was born.

Other things in the box:
The dangling frog flag from Nonno that also hung by Tikva's bedside.
The colorful sign I made in the ICN with the words "Happy" and "Celebration framing" the name "Tikva Ahava".
The bright yellow sign I made during her more difficult final weeks that reads, "Hi. I'm Tikva. Please keep my space extra quiet. Thanks."
A picture Dahlia drew months before Tikva was born which also hung in the hospital - of a rainbow and a bear cave.
More of Dahlia's art for Tikva, which she made at school to hang in the ICN.
Tikva's astrological chart.
An envelope with the dates of Tikva's yarzheit for the next 20 years. (20 years!)
Also in the same envelope: Tikva's ultrasound images.
Dave's notes from when he made her funeral arrangements with Sinai Memorial Chapel and Rabbi Pearce.
The lyrics of "In This Heart" by Sinead O'Connor, which Sharon sang at Tikva's funeral.
A beautiful card from midwife Sue - of a regal fairylike mother and her angel princess baby - that sat on our dresser since May.
CDs with all the photos of Tikva, my pregnancy, the blessing and the celebration.
The rainbow teddy bear that slept on Dave's chest since January 23rd until Tikva died, which Dave said he was ready to put away now.

And then another precious smaller box within the larger box.
A beautiful box the ICN has on hand for when babies die.
A box Elaine put together for us the night Tikva died.
Afterwards when she bathed Tikva and collected her few things we had left behind:

A little hand-knit purple hat that was too small for her head but which sometimes shaded the light from Tikva's eyes.
A little white sock that went on her hand once or twice to keep her from pulling out her feeding or breathing tube.
A cast of Tikva's footprint in a little frame, which Elaine took that night.
A little card with an envelope that holds a lock of Tikva's soft hair.
Her tiny handprints and footprints in blue on white, her name and a little heart below in Elaine's handwriting.
A lavender ribbon tied in a bow with the words, "Thinking of you, Love Elaine."

And in this sweet box - with flowers on the outside from nurse Robin's "family crafts box," and also one of the name labels with Tikva's medical record number that were on everything of Tikva's: charts, records, my pumped and frozen milk, her belongings, her medication.
In this sweet box I have added so many little Tikva things:

Dahlia's rendition of her family - the four of us all dressed like princesses, Tikva the tiniest of all, Dave with the biggest head and the longest princess hair.
Messages from Nonno that hung above Tikva's bed during her last few days.
One ultrasound image of her from May 7th, which Dave had in his car, which followed me into labor, and which sat in my bedside table drawer until a few weeks after Tikva died.
The positive pregnancy test from October 5, 2007.
My ticket stub from the John Mellencamp concert Dave and I went to, with strong encouragement from the nurses, the Saturday before Tikva's passing.
(Symbolizing our sense that Tikva might be doing better, or well enough for us to leave for a few hours. We went to see her that night after the concert, in the quiet of the ICN at night. I told her about the music as she slept.)

The nail file from Sharon that I used to trim Tikva's long perfect fingernails.
An origami flower from Michelle from Tikva's blessing.
My almost entirely faded purple bracelet which allowed me entrance into the ICN - my ID in that place as the parent of an ICN baby.
My other two hospital bracelets from when I delivered Tikva.
A photograph of Tikva's nurses who came to our celebration.
An empty milk bottle with one of Tikva's name labels on it.
A "Posey" wrist band that was used to hold one of Tikva's CO2 sensors on her, or maybe to hold some of her many wires and tubes in place.
(I didn't know Dave had brought this home, and I cried when I found it during the following week.)

Inside the top of the smaller box and also on the outside of the larger one: One of the sticky gold hearts that held Tikva's temperature monitor against her belly.
Receipts from the birthday cake Dave got me on the day of Tikva's surgery, and from the day during my pregnancy when Sharon and I went to buy a nightgown for labor and a shirt for the blessing.
Tikva's insurance cards.
Footprints from the day she was born.
Two index cards with hair from haircuts she had to make room for IVs - June 15th and August 6th.
(Her hair is still so soft and real.)

Some extra Tikva name labels from the hospital.
(I had so many left over unused after she died.)
Two talismans from a Buddhist shrine in Akita, Japan, which KC sent me to protect and bless Tikva.
A tiny green stone turtle from Nonno.
A pewter spoon from Jerusalem, from Elizheva.
A photo of Dahlia petting an iguana, which hung above Tikva's bed.
Two magnets that also hung above her:
One reads, "Hope will find you."
The other, "Spread your wings! Archangel Ariel: 'Do not hold back right now. The timing is perfect, and you are ready to soar!'"
(I looked at that one a lot during Tikva's last days, thinking maybe her angel was telling her it was okay to soar back into God's fold.)

The Jewish children's blessing we brought back from Jerusalem, which sat on my bedside table during my pregnancy, and then rested above Tikva's bed.
A rendition of Tikva by Dahlia; if I remember correctly, it was of Tikva grown up.
A yellow bear mobile I found in the arts and crafts cart to hang near Tikva's bed.
A still-wrapped extra sticky gold heart.
Allyson and Elaine's addresses from the last night we left the ICN.
The card Tom gave us that same night with his email, in case we ever needed to contact him.
An impossible to decipher yellow form that lists all the drugs administered to Tikva on the day of her surgery.
The sign Allyson made on a paper towel that she hung on Tikva's impromptu canopy when she started to get really sensitive to loud noises, which reads, "Beauty rest in progress... Please do not disturb!"
The little blue plastic thing to clean under our nails that came with the scrub sponges at the washing sink in the ICN.
The empty-of-ink purple pen I used to write daily in my journal about the details of Tikva's journey.

Some fortunes that had hung on our refrigerator:
"Now is the time to set your sights high and go for it."
"An unexpected event will soon make your life more exciting."
"Your present plans will be successful."
"Life is a series of choices. Today yours are good ones."

Fortunes from teabags:
"Your destiny is to merge with infinity."
"Open up to infinity and you become infinity."
(I guess this is what it's all about, right? The moral of this story?)

The little paper origami stars I had hung above Tikva's bed on her very last day - the ones that made Dave call me a "living prayer flag" - were buried with her.
(Was I still holding onto hope that day, or did I just want her to feel my never-give-up love till her very last breath and beyond?)
I placed the small cluster of rainbow colored stars in the center of the wooden Star of David that was glued to the top of her small coffin.
I also placed on her coffin a magical purple Dahlia from Laurie's garden, which had a tiny tear of white on a petal in the middle.

I love this box.
I know I am not the only mom who has put together a box like this to hold her child's things.
I know I am not the only one who has opened up a box like this to touch, see and smell these hints of her daughter's life.
These reminders that she really lived, that she really existed, that she was not just a dream.
These spots along the road of a visit through Tikva's days, details that bring back little moments so vividly.
I imagine they will feel just as vivid 20 years from now, after I have honored every anniversary listed on the yarzheit list.
When once in a while I will take the box off a shelf high in my closet (I can already see it there in a closet in a house I have not yet lived in) to revisit its contents and the memories they hold.
Or maybe the clarity of the memories will fade, and I will hold some things in my hand unable to remember why I placed them in Tikva's box.
I don't think so, though...
But if I do forget, I will reread this to remember why each of these things is important.
Important simply because they tell the story of my Baby Girl.
Who really lived - even though she isn't here in her body anymore.

I miss you, Boo Boo.
I miss you, Sweet Girl.
Thank you for the gift of you.