September 23, 2015
It's your due date.
Maybe you would have come already like both your brother and sister did. Maybe you would have come today so we could have celebrated your birthday and your great grandmother's birthday. Maybe you would have been more stubborn and come late.
It doesn't matter. You're not coming.
We are coming up on the six month mark. A half year. It seems like such a long time.
And yet I still cry for you. I've cried for you every day this week. I still have moments of total sadness. I still see pregnant mamas, baby announcements, newborns and get emotional, angry, jealous.
I still feel bitter.
I think I always will. I think deep down the sadness and bitterness will never go away. And that's ok.
Your heart beat. Your legs kicked. Your fingers wiggled. You lived.
And then you died.
And I'm allowed to be bitter about that.
I'll always wonder who you would have been. I'll always wonder who you would have looked like. Would you have had the same head of hair your sister and brother did? Would you have been a social bug like your sister? Would you have loved to cuddle like your brother?
I'll always be sad that you don't get to grow up next to these incredible siblings you have. Sad that I don't get to shower you with millions of hugs and kisses. Sad that I don't get to whisper how much I love you in your ear every single day.
My heart has been so heavy these last 5 1/2 months but this week it's like a brick. Distractions help but there's always that pause, always that moment when you sneak in and make that brick heavier.
I don't think that will every go away. I don't think I want it to.
I can see how awkward it is for people when I say your name out loud. Their body language changes. Their face cringes just a little. I don't talk about you because I want to make people uncomfortable. I talk about you because I want people to remember you.
I'm always torn by how to answer when people ask me how many kids I have. I always want to say three but I know it's unsettling for people when I have to tell them you're an angel. But I want them to know about you. I want everyone to know about you.
I want people to know that even though I only carried you for 16 weeks, you lived. You were loved. You are missed.
Always in my heart, sweet boy.
#loveforcolson
It's your due date.
Maybe you would have come already like both your brother and sister did. Maybe you would have come today so we could have celebrated your birthday and your great grandmother's birthday. Maybe you would have been more stubborn and come late.
It doesn't matter. You're not coming.
We are coming up on the six month mark. A half year. It seems like such a long time.
And yet I still cry for you. I've cried for you every day this week. I still have moments of total sadness. I still see pregnant mamas, baby announcements, newborns and get emotional, angry, jealous.
I still feel bitter.
I think I always will. I think deep down the sadness and bitterness will never go away. And that's ok.
Your heart beat. Your legs kicked. Your fingers wiggled. You lived.
And then you died.
And I'm allowed to be bitter about that.
I'll always wonder who you would have been. I'll always wonder who you would have looked like. Would you have had the same head of hair your sister and brother did? Would you have been a social bug like your sister? Would you have loved to cuddle like your brother?
I'll always be sad that you don't get to grow up next to these incredible siblings you have. Sad that I don't get to shower you with millions of hugs and kisses. Sad that I don't get to whisper how much I love you in your ear every single day.
My heart has been so heavy these last 5 1/2 months but this week it's like a brick. Distractions help but there's always that pause, always that moment when you sneak in and make that brick heavier.
I don't think that will every go away. I don't think I want it to.
I can see how awkward it is for people when I say your name out loud. Their body language changes. Their face cringes just a little. I don't talk about you because I want to make people uncomfortable. I talk about you because I want people to remember you.
I'm always torn by how to answer when people ask me how many kids I have. I always want to say three but I know it's unsettling for people when I have to tell them you're an angel. But I want them to know about you. I want everyone to know about you.
I want people to know that even though I only carried you for 16 weeks, you lived. You were loved. You are missed.
Always in my heart, sweet boy.
#loveforcolson
Comments
Post a Comment