"When will we pick up Arfur from the doctor?"

Sometimes almost-three-year-olds say it best.

Mine has recently begun to realize that baby sister is a living, growing, permanent member of our family.  This realization has manifested itself in many (mostly predictable) ways.  First there was the jealousy and tantrums.  Then the nostalgia for when SHE was a baby.  Then the excitement to interact with baby sister.  Then the impatience for baby sister to get a little bigger so they can play together, eat together, etc.  Then the reenacting of caring for baby sister with her baby doll, right down to pulling up her shirt to “give Baby Gretl some milk."

 

Then wondering about Arthur.  It started abruptly a couple of weeks ago, when she asked “Do I have a brother?”  I smiled and said “Yes.  Do you remember his name?”  She smiled back and said “Arfur!”  And then recited what we have told her many times: “Arfur died and he’s in heaven with Jesus.”  Then she began to put into her little concrete world the crazy emotions all of us have been feeling.  “And then we had a NEW baby!” Smiles and excitement, and then shoving another cracker into her mouth.

As baby sister grows, we show big sister pictures and videos of herself when she was that age.  Lying on the playmat and grabbing Mr. Elephant.  Sitting in the Bumbo chair.  Saying “Dadadada” and Daddy saying “Baby, baby, baby” back to her and both of them laughing.  And while this helps her understand and love her baby sister, it’s caused her to fight to understand what happened to Arthur.

Over the last week, I’ve had to answer “Will Arfur play with the playmat and Mr. Elephant?”  Next, “Will Arfur say ‘Dadadada’”?  “When will we pick up Arfur from your doctor?”  All the things she’s experiencing with her baby sister, she’s wondering if and when she’ll experience them with Arthur.

What do I say?  I’ve told her that God and Jesus are taking perfect care of him, but we can’t pick him up from heaven.  We won’t get to watch him play with the playmat or hear him say Dadadada.  And that’s sad.  But we can see him again when Jesus comes back as the king.  “Right now?” she asks impatiently.  And my heart groans with all creation.

Each experience with baby sister is so sweet.  I want to freeze time for just a second when she falls asleep in my arms, content after nursing.  When she smiles at me.  When her daddy or big sister make her chuckle.  When she looks at me with her serious little face and coos.  These are such beautiful moments that my heart aches with joy.  But it aches where it’s broken too.  Because I never got to see Arthur do any of these things.

Baby sister just grew out of her 3 month clothes, and I was shocked.  She is 3 months now, so this shouldn’t have surprised me like it did.  While my older daughter is wondering why Arthur isn’t with us, growing and healthy, I am caught off-guard by my healthy, growing baby.  I wish I could have my three-year-old’s innocence and think that this is how it is for every baby.  And it hurts me to have to explain to her that it’s not.