The only part of it I can put into words, the rest is pure emotion and memory

So, I've been made an aunt again, this time by an inlaw and his wife who should have never been allowed to procreate in the first place.  They can barely make it day to day raising themselves, and now they're tasked to raise offspring?  Heaven (or God, Allah, Calgary, whatever you believe in) help us.  But that's a long going verbal rant that I'm sure to have on a regular basis, and a good chuckle when they realize it's not as easy as playing video games.

But that's really isn't the point of this post.  

In the past year, I've been made an aunt twice.  My sister had her little girl on February 1st, and now the inlaw and his bitch had their girl on the 14th this month.  And while I don't begrudge them their children (although when it comes to the inlaws, I'd really prefer not to think that they could spread their idiocy onto future generations), there's one thing that really stings.

Why couldn't I keep my little girl?

It's been over 3 years since my Morrigan passed away.  And it really doesn't matter to me that she was born way too early.  It's still hurts that by my own morals I couldn't justify having her "live" just so I wouldn't have to lose her, even though her body had failed her and she would have existed as a vegetable as far as all her doctors were concerned.  Unless I look at the few pictures I managed to take in the two weeks she was alive (and I just couldn't make myself take pictures after I learned that the only choice I could make was to take her off life support, even though she remained on it for a few days while I built the courage to do so), the only image I can make myself pull is her face mere seconds haver the tubes were disconnected.  I'm not going to describe it.  Please, don't make me.  

Now, don't get me wrong.  Even though they drive me absolutly batshit on a regular basis, I love my boys.  I love them more than life itself.  But I love her still that much, even though she was only here for 2 weeks.  And I think what burns me the most is how she's been forgotten by many.  Perhaps it's because she meant so much to me that it hurts, and perhaps I'm just being unreasonable here, but I still believe she should be counted.  She had a name, she breathed, she counts.  And yet my Dad's side of the family has pretty much written her off as a two week hardship to get past.  My Mom still acknowledges her (hell, I flew her out so my Mom could meet her granddaughter before she was gone...  I just had to have someone who I knew would love her see her and know her, I don't know how else to justify it).  My sister tiptoes around the subject at best.  But my Dad's side of the family outright ignores the fact that there should be a little girl with the name of a triple goddess of war running around my home.  And they're the type to dwell on death a lot.  My Dad will have been gone for 8 years this May, and they can't get over it.  And yet, I get the "Oh yeah, I forgot" when I mention Morrigan.

I don't expect them to love her.  Hell, I doubt they extend that much care in my direction, much less my children.  Just don't expect them to forget her (given that they're all in Alberta and all had met her).  Her name, sure.  I can't remember all the spawn in the family's names either.  Just don't forget she was here.

And here I am, auntie to two girls, and why them?  Why do they get to keep their little girls and I couldn't?  Why should they be so lucky?  I'm happy I have my boys.  I didn't ever think I'd have a girl.  I was absolutely shocked when they told me I had a girl.  I had been calling the belly by the boy's name we had picked, that's how sure we were.  Do I want to trade my boys in?  Do I wish they weren't boys?  No.  I'm quite fine with the idea of being a Mother to boys.  It's just that...  I really don't know how to put it.  It was like she was a new challenge, and a new joy.  I could have the best of both worlds.  How I was ever going to teach her how to put on makeup, I don't know (guess she could learn from my sister, the girlie girl).  The moment the words "a girl" sunk in, my mind ran through a million different possibilities, good and bad, for the future.  Pigtails and pretty dresses, menustration and those talks about why you need to use birth control and why it would be best to wait, dolls and easy bake ovens, arguments over skimpy clothing and talking on the phone all night...  I wanted it all, just as I want all that will come with my boys (which I'm sure dresses and menustration won't be a part of, but you never know nowadays).  

Maybe it's greed.  That thought has crossed my mind.  I'm greedy cause I still want her, and I'm sore cause others have that chance with their girls where I lost my chance.  I figure it's warrented, given that I was blessed with the most beautiful girl in the world and was given no choice but to let her go.  

And no, I can't bring her back.  And I wish people would stop suggesting that.  Reincarnation, if one believe in such and I do, requires a body.  And I can't try again.  With my youngest, it was the scariest 8 months in my life, and they couldn't even keep him in for the full 9.  To this day, he's the same size as his cousin, who's 6 months younger than him.  And I can't go through that fear again, even if I could afford to raise 3 kids. 

I'm not even sure how to end this.  I'm just rambling now, and I've forgotten the inital purpose of this post.  I just wish she was still here.  I'd give just about anything to have a 3 year old healthy little girl running around here.  To know what she'd look like, sound like, her favorite things...  And my sister and someone who I'd be pleased to avoid for the remainder of my life have that opportunity with their own daughters.  I don't wish to traide either of theirs for mine.  I just want Morrigan too.