It’s hard to believe how quickly time passed. Surprisingly on November 9th I was ok, it was today that sucked the wind right out of me. No one tells you this stuff about loss. No one mentions that on days when you think you’d be the worst, they turn out the best. It’s the random days that sink like a brick right into your gut.
On April 25th we begged for another ultrasound before surgery. I was hoping the lack of a heart beat, that we had just seen a few weeks before, was just a mistake. This time, I am glad they knocked me out cold before they did that second ultrasound. I don’t think I could have handled seeing you that way again. The first time was far too hard. I feel guilty saying this, but I think I was more attached to you than the others. Maybe because I got to see you more often. Maybe because I got to see your heart flutter away with your tiny little arms and legs forming. Maybe because your presence was loud. Dude, you made this momma SO sick all the time and I slept like a champ, often times right on the keyboard at work, yikes.
What I miss the most is who you might have been. Maybe it’s silly to consider that, because all the doctors say you wouldn’t have made it regardless. All the statistics say that you wouldn’t have ever made it very far. In fact, with tripoidy, it was a miracle you made it as long as you did.
I constantly wonder if you would have looked more like Connor, or me? Would you have had blonde hair, or dark hair. A football fanatic like Connor? Or a soccer fan like momma?
Since April I have been dreading November. I had big dreams of your first Thanksgiving with your giant (amazing) family and meeting your aunties and cousins quite possibly for the 1st time. I had big dreams of your first Christmas. I have 3 kids…. All 3 are gone. Christmas this year (just like most now) is all for the kids. I was looking forward to seeing your smooshy little face next to the Tree snuggled up in auntie S and C’s arms. Heck, maybe even your dads arms for a nice nap after stuffing our faces full like we do every year. Now, I am terrified of the Holiday Seasons. At least for now. They say the firsts are always the hardest. I’m learning that’s not true. But maybe, just maybe, I will get lucky and get a glimpse of you for the holidays.
I feel silly wanting to celebrate your birthday. I feel silly that for Christmas you (and your sibs) will be getting Christmas gifts. Granted, it won’t be anything tangible.
All this to say, you, my sweet boy, you are so loved. So cherished. My heart swells every time I think about you. Maybe this letter is jumbled, perhaps a little odd, but if I’m being honest…. I haven’t sorted everything out. I haven’t quite figured out how to put into words the way you have changed my life. I haven’t quite discovered how my emotions and thoughts can be de-tangled into well-formed sentences . Perhaps maybe it’s not supposed to be that way. Perhaps it’s all suppose to be messy.
For now, I am glad that you are cared for in heaven while we are separated. For now, I am so thankful that you have been made whole and perfect. For now, I am even a little jealous that you got to meet Jesus before I did.
Love you always and forever,