There Are Days...

"The universe restarted, and we were completely different, completely OTHER. There should be another word for the loss of a child, because frankly, it is it’s own planet of unfathomable horror. "

-

I forget.

I forget how it felt holding him.

I forget those small moments in between his first and last breath.

I forget I am a mom. My mother's heart grows bitter with each passing month, and though my love for him still grows and strengthens, my resolve, my hope, my future waxes and wanes.

I forget the life I had, and ignore the one I live, thinking, maybe, just maybe, I'll be a mom again.

-

Then I tell my husband, I can't do it anymore. I can't trust in hope, but live in despair. It's better to just assume the worst. It's better to not let my hopes of the future raise high, then they will never have long to fall.

There are no little things of happiness anymore, just fake smiles, distracted laughs, forced happiness for others.

I love him. I love them. So much. My big man, and my little man, my whole life, only a half now. He knows I'm broken, but he loves me still. I've tried. I try to pray, I try friends, I try family, I try it all. To no avail.

There is one thing, only one, that can even begin to fix me again. It's held just out of my reach. Taunting me.

The ones around, all around, at every corner, at every turn, every sight, full of their little ones. Taunting me with my loss, with my pain, with my "should have beens", with my "never will be"s. Robbing me of my joy for them, turning it to bile and bitterness in my mouth. I smile, I say kind words, I go through the motions of happiness for them, but inside, my heart screams "why?!" Questioning the ways of fate, of life, of a heavenly plan with anger and obscene rage. No answer. No peep. No reassuring blanket of comfort.

5 years. 5 years in March. When we decided to make our dreams come true. 5 years of aching, wanting, medicating, doctoring, grieving, seething, desiring, weeping, and losing. Almost 1 year ago my little boy died. Almost 5 years ago, it was the beginning of the end.

I am 26 years old. I have been married 4 1/2 years. I have wanted children from the time my memories began. My husband Jamie has wanted to be a father his whole life. We have lived through the grief and pain of 10 lifetimes, but we still go on, together. My heart feels so old and weak. My eyes do not recognize the world which they look upon.

When they tell me "it will get better", I simply put on my smile, and nod. They do not know. This is simply an easy phrase to say, but there is no ounce of known truth behind it.

-

I forget.

The softness of his cheek.

The curve of his lips.

The smell of him.


But I cannot forget the overwhelming love I have for him, and I never will.