WOOF

I want to get a tattoo.

Many of my “new” friends have tattoos in remembrance of their babies. Names, footprints, heartbeats. And they are beautiful.

I don’t have any tattoos. I have never been against them, just didn’t have any good reason to get one.

That was before my daughter died.  I’d say she’s a good reason.

I Googled “good reasons to get a tattoo”. I read this link. Memories, art, love/passion. Yep, all of those make sense.

I Googled “good reasons to not get a tattoo”.  I read this link. Memory, love, peer pressure, supporting a cause. Huh?

So you’re telling me some of the same reasons to NOT get a tattoo are some of the same ones TO get a tattoo? Mind you, I’m just playing devil’s advocate with myself. I don’t really care what random bloggers have to say about the pros and cons to permanent ink. I just a Googleaholic.

I understand getting a tattoo is permanent. It’s a permanent reminder that my daughter died. But it’s also a permanent reminder that she lived. Even though she never took one breath outside the womb, she still lived. She still existed.

When you have a tattoo, people often ask the meaning behind it. I would gladly explain the meaning of my tattoo. At least then people will know that I had a daughter.

Yesterday I had a very pleasant conversation with a cashier at Target. She was a very sweet woman, and I had never “had” her before in my hundreds of trips inside this particular Target. As she was scanning and packing up my items, I noticed she had a tattoo on her wrist. I was trying to make out what it was, but I couldn’t. It looked like it may have been an angel, with a name below it. It certainly said something. So after I paid and she handed me my receipt, I asked her.

“I noticed your tattoo. What is it?”

I prepared myself for her to say it was in remembrance of her son, or daughter, or perhaps another loved one. I already had my response ready. I’m sorry for your loss. I have an angel daughter too.

“Oh, it’s a dog and it says WOOF!”

I tucked away my response about my dead daughter and suppressed laughter. I think I said, “oh, that’s neat”. Neat?

A dog. Woof.

I didn’t ask her the meaning behind it, and shame on me for not. Maybe she has a beautiful story behind it.

Or maybe she just likes dogs. To each their own, I suppose.

I want to get a tattoo in remembrance of my sweet baby girl. Something for me and others to see every day and remember her short life. Something that people may ask questions about. “Who is Lily?” or “What does that dragonfly mean?” and I can tell her story.

Who knows, maybe I’ll get that same cashier again someday and maybe she’ll ask me what’s on my wrist. And I can share Lily’s story. And then maybe I’ll get the real story behind the dog tattoo.

WOOF!