Day 32 - { mrs. tapa }

Note: I wrote most of this post over a week ago. Fortunately the maternity clothes crisis mentioned below is mostly dealt with now, after a teary morning with DC close by.

I want to tell you about my baby sister, mrs. tapa. She is so funny and so awesome. I love her like crazy.

mrs. tapa has always been close to my heart. When she was born I was so excited to be old enough to carry around this cute little girl.

 

 

Isn't she budgie-adorable?! Oooh, I just want to shubby those cheeks!

 

As she grew, I always thought she was just beautiful, and I had a real sense of pride in her "belonging" to me. :)

 

 

Now she is all grown up and married to a crazy dental student. (crazy-awesome, that is. :) And they have two gorgeous children.

 

Sometime I'll tell you about how hilarious she is, how rock-hard her testimony is, her gift for making things look nice, how beautiful her singing is, and her inspiring strength in working to become the very best wife and mother she can be.

 

mrs. tapa has a way of rescuing me in the way of clothes. . . .

My pudgerriffic self is starting to change from mere fat-displacement to an actual baby bump (yay!), and my wardrobe is feeling the strain. (Ever done the rubberband trick so you can keep wearing your jeans?)

Sunday morning before last I looked in my closet at all the "fat" dresses I've been wearing and knew it was time to pull out the big guns.

Still in my nightgown, I went out into the garage. DC had already left for meetings, and I started unstacking the bins of clothing we have stored out there. Only two were unmarked, and I knew one of them had to have the maternity clothes.

I opened the first one.

Total emotional breakdown. It was the baby clothes, still neatly stacked and folded in their little piles, as they had been on the changing table shelves all ready for Benjamin.

Now I was out there bawling (did I mention the garage door was open?), in my nightgown, with church starting in less than an hour.

I opened the next unmarked one, wiping my eyes, and trying to calm down, telling myself for sure THIS one was the maternity clothes. No problem.

How could I be so clueless about the emotional landmines there? Right on top was the shirt I was wearing when I had that last ultrasound where there was no heartbeat. Near it was the outfit I wore to the hospital the morning I delivered Benjamin.

I crammed the lid back on, just sobbing. (sorry--total drama when you add pregnancy hormones to grieving). Going through those clothes at that moment was simply beyond my ability to cope.

. . . .then I remembered that mrs. tapa had brought me some maternity clothes when we were together in Arizona last month! YAY! What a relief!

I went upstairs to look through them and was SO, SO GRATEFUL to have clothes to wear that did not have ANY feelings associated with them at all, except of course the happy thought that my beautiful sister had worn them.

This shows just one of the things I love about my little sister. She is thoughtful and generous. I think she was inspired to bring me those for me. She had even lent me her very favorite outfit.

      It brought back another memory of a "mrs. tapa wardrobe rescue". . . .

The morning I had to face the task of finding something to wear to my baby's funeral was another time she saved me. She had brought an absolutely beautiful outfit with a forgiving waist-line--black satin with flowers embroidered on it--that she offered to let me wear. I even wore her shoes, which I couldn't bend over to buckle, still sore from the delivery. She knelt and fastened them for me.

mrs. tapa is thoughtful

she is sensitive to the Spirit

mrs. tapa serves like the Savior did, out of pure love

 

On that precious day we had with Benjamin here on earth, she was with us. She held him and cried. She brought gifts of comfort for each of us, including the boys. She and Becky ministered to me like angels.

The day after that unimaginably painful time of saying goodbye to our baby, they were there in my too-quiet hospital room, rubbing my feet and painting my toenails. (I had completely forgotten the fact--and she never mentioned it--that it was her birthday that day.)

I am so grateful for this amazing sister of mine.

I still think she is just beautiful, and I am still proud she "belongs" to me forever.