Lately, the pain of leaving/losing A. & E. has lessened some. I still miss them fiercely. But...somehow...the pain of the whole situation is less. Which, I suppose, is good, but I'm a bit sad about it because it means I'm getting over the whole situation. And I don't exactly want to because it puts me farther apart from the girls. I know that may not make sense, and I do feel slightly irrational about the whole thing (I feel rather like a drama queen), but it's how I feel nonetheless.
I have several pictures of the girls around. Two from when A. was a baby and one from when she was 3. And I have a picture on my desk of me holding 8-month-old E. I also have many more pictures in albums, and taped to my mirror is a small, slightly yellowed piece of paper from the first time A. wrote my name. It's in purple crayon and I remember being so happy when she showed me it...she'd been practicing all week.
Sometimes I wonder if having the pictures around is unhealthy. To tell the truth, I like having them there, reminding me of the sweet girls whom I loved SO much. But when I do look at them, it's tinged with sadness.
(I've been meaning to scan pictures of them onto my computer. I'd love to share them with you, to show off my beautiful girls, but I'm hesitant to post them here, just in case. If you e-mail me, I'll send them to you.)
I know some nannies get a bad wrap and some are in it just for the money. But I loved--love--those girls enormously. I was there when they both took their first steps. My name was A.'s third word (after Mama and flower, of all things), and one of E.'s first five. I rocked them to sleep, kissed their boo-boos and gave them dessert if they'd been good. I read them countless bedtime stories, and I can't tell you how many times I wrapped them both up, put them in the wagon, and took them to the park. I mediated tantrums and fights, even once walked out of a Tom Thumb without my groceries because A. had melted down. It was never easy, that's for sure. But I loved it. I really did.