How is it possible that a year can pass in the blink of an eye, yet move so slowly it feels like eternity? I can hardly fathom that a year ago, at this time, I laid in a hospital bed and held my son; waiting for the inevitable final word from the nurse, who repeatedly checked his heartbeat, to tell us that he was gone. That was the longest and shortest hour and forty minutes, that continued on into the longest and shortest year. I wonder if every year will feel this way, short yet long, because I know without any doubt, every year that passes will be looked at in two ways: another year further away from the last time I held my sweet boy, and one year closer to when we will be reunited. A year. I literally cannot come to terms with that. I can't help but wonder what his little personality would be like. Would he have dark hair like me? Or be a toe head like his daddy was? He looked so much like my husband, would he have had his dad's eyes too? There are so many little things that I never would have thought I'd miss until it was taken from me. All the smiles, the giggles, the different cries, the milestones of the first year...I wish we had gotten to experience them all together. I read something recently about how in French, "I miss you" translates literally to "You are missing from me." When I read that, I cried. It was so much more accurate a description of what it means when I try to express the longing a parent feels for the child that is not within their reach. I have this piece of me that is missing. I hate to say that it's empty because it's not, it's filled with love, but there's a void that is so indescribable. Even a year later, it's still there. I don't think that time heals all wounds, we really just learn to work around the injury. Time helps you gain the strength you need to adequately carry the grief, to cope with the pain. But it stays, and sometimes it rages, and sometimes it's just like a little pebble in your shoe. I'm proud of this past year and all of the learning and growing that I feel I, as well as my husband and family, have done. And I hope Hunter is proud of us too. I strive to be worthy to be his mother because I truly feel that he was so special that heaven couldn't do without him. That's not to say that I don't have my "what ifs" and question some decisions made by doctors and hospital staff, but there's just something, it could be my motherly bias saying this, but my son was incredibly remarkable. I don't think our children are sent to us for us to raise them, I think we receive these amazing, innocent beings to raise us. And I know Hunter did that for me in just his short hour and forty minute life. I hope who I am as a wife, daughter, sister, friend and mother to his younger siblings makes him proud. I hope he can look down on me and say "Yup, that's my mommy!" with so much pride. I try to live my life in such a way that I can do that for him, because I sure am proud to be his mom. Today was a very special day and I'm so thankful we were able to celebrate this baby boy with our friends and family. I felt him close all day, and I hope as we continue on this week and some of the harder memories come flooding back, that he will continue to make his presence known. I think the closer we are getting to his baby sister's arrival, the closer he will be, or maybe I will just feel it more. There's something so innately spiritual and transcendent about the birth of a new baby. Heaven and Earth blur and in that brief moment the two become one. I know Hunter will be there and I plan on having him be a very central part of the birth of his baby sister. Without him, I truly don't think we'd be having her.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
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