The day they were released from the hospital, it really seemed to hit Emily that they were going home without a baby. Sure, she'd known all along, but that's when the knowledge truly seemed to burrow into her consciousness and take root in her heart.
She paused on the threshold of their home, her heart and arms feeling emptier than ever as all her visions of bringing home their baby boy for the first time came crashing down around her.
Lucy rubbed a soothing hand up and down her back. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
Emily leaned into her shoulder, sighed sadly. "I just want him to be here," she whispered.
"I know, Em," she murmured. She didn't say that she wished the same, knew that the grief she felt was nothing compared to Emily's...
They didn't get the chance to mourn that moment further because the door swung open to reveal Aurora standing there, followed by Declan calling out, "Rory, how many times do I have to tell you...don't open the door!"
"But it's Mama!" she hollered back.
"Hello, Sunshine," Emily greeted the child, mustering the biggest smile she could in that moment. "I missed you so much."
Aurora launched herself into Emily's arms and held onto her for dear life. "I haved a nightmare that you died..." she wailed. "Just like Kody..."
"I'm so sorry, Sunny," she cooed, stroking the girl's hair, still mussed from sleep. "That's a very scary dream to have." Aurora nodded pitifully, bottom lip jutted out. Emily lifted her onto her hip and carried her into the house. "Where's Clara?" she asked.
Declan entered the foyer, taking Aurora from Emily's arms and proceeding to wipe the toast crumbs off her face with a washcloth. "She's upstairs – she hasn't come down for breakfast yet."
Emily and Lucy shared a look, silently agreeing that Emily should be the one to check on her.
Emily didn't find Clara in the girls' bedroom, instead finding her in the nursery. "Buggy, what are you..." she started to ask, only to trail off as she watched her furiously tearing apart a piece of paper. It took her a moment to recognize it as being the massive poster that Clara had been working on for months in preparation for her brother's arrival – a gift she'd been creating for his nursery wall.
"Clara!" Emily exclaimed, "Clara, what are you doing?"
Clara whirled around, startled, which is when Emily saw the tears spilling down her cheeks.
"Oh, Buggy..." she whispered, dropping to her knees and extending her arms. Clara accepted the silent invitation and flung herself at her mother, proceeding to sob into her shoulder. "Why are you ripping up your beautiful poster?" she asked.
"Be-because," she wailed, "Kody's never gonna get to see it!"
Emily's heart broke a little more at her daughter's obvious heartbreak. "Honey..." she started, but couldn't come up with anything that would be of comfort.
"I hate it!" she shouted, "I hate the stupid poster and I hate Kody for dying!" She pushed Emily away and reached for the poster to continue tearing it apart.
Before she could grab the shreds, though, Emily grabbed her hands to stop her. "No, Buggy – don't do that," she urged.
She narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Why?" she demanded.
Emily sighed, debating how best to explain this to a child. "I know it hurts now, but it's not always going to be like this," she said. "It's not going to hurt like this forever and when it stops being so sad, you might wish you still had this poster because it will help you remember him."
"I don't want to remember him!" she insisted.
"You won't feel that way forever," Emily said, knowing the truth of how grief works and yet feeling like the exact opposite was true. That this hurt was going to settle deep in her bones and stay with her forever.
Clara glowered at her. "How do you know?" she asked, somewhere between angry and curious.
Emily reached out to cup her cheek, thumb smudging away an errant tear. "Because time heals all wounds."
"What's that mean?"
"It means that as time passes, the things that hurt us don't feel so bad," she tried to explain. "Like how when you get a cut, it heals over and becomes skin again."
A beat.
"Oh..." She thought on that for a minute. "But how do you know?"
"I've known people who've gone to Heaven before," she said, "And I still miss them sometimes, but it doesn't make me so sad to think about them."
Clara sniffled. "I'm sorry I sayed I hate Kody..."
Emily offered her a tight smile. "It's okay," she reassured her. "You're allowed to feel whatever emotions you have right now. There's no right way to feel grief."
"What's grief?"
"It means the feeling you have when something tragic – like someone dying – happens. There's no wrong feelings to have. Even if you're mad sometimes, that's okay," Emily murmured.
Clara cocked her head in thought. "Are you mad?" she asked in a little mumble.
She pursed her lips in thought. "Maybe. A little," she admitted, "But not at Kody – I'm mad at myself."
"Why?"
Once again, she was struggling to explain topics beyond Clara's age to the child. "Well, because my body was supposed to grow Kody and keep him safe until he was ready to come meet us, but it didn't do that right. I feel like it's my fault he died."
Clara launched herself at Emily in the biggest hug she could manage. "Mama, that's sad," she whispered.
She nodded, swallowing thickly.
"I still think you're a good Mama," Clara said softly.
"Thank you, Buggy," Emily choked out. "That means the world to me." She combed her fingers through the girl's hair. "Do you want me to help you tape your poster back together?" Clara pulled a face, clearly unconvinced. "I think one day, you'll want to have it," Emily insisted. When she still seemed unconvinced, Emily said, "How about we keep the pieces for when you're ready to not be sad?"
