So, I do this weird thing since we lost him. I often look at the obits online. If I see someone who has lost a baby I often anonymously sign the online guestbook. People did that for me after I lost him and I did appreciate them reading about our son and taking those few minutes....

But, in doing that, I often reading another announcements. I will find someone who has been preceded in death by their child. My heart sadly hurts for the grief I know they endured. But, what I don't understand is that if the child was an infant, it will state that. It will say "She was preceded in death by infant daughter..." I guess I am confused as to why it says infant. I have never seen "preceded in death by toddler son" or "young adult daughter". Does an infant make people feel better? Does it soften the blow in "others" eyes?

I can hear people "at least he wasn't older" "at least you don't have as many memories when they are just a baby".

I think stating the baby was an infant somehow dimishes the importance of that little life in the eyes of the reader. I can't say for sure, because I read the infant part and my heart hurts SO much for that parent. But, honestly, I think others glance over that. It was just a baby. Just an infant. Maybe even a stillbirth. No one realizes when you carry that child...they are your child. Not just an infant. Not just an infant son. Infant daughter.

I don't want my loss "lessened" like that.

It is quiet in the house right now. Hub is gone, has to go up north to help his family put in the docks. Baby girl is sleeping in her crib after waking at some ungodly hour. I guess it isn't completely quiet because the dog is chomping on her food.

I haven't had a dream about him. People on my grief board talk about having peaceful dreams, a way of their baby telling them they are okay.

Well, I take that back. I had one dream that is clearly etched in my mind. It was back to May of 06 and I had just given birth. I was told I needed to find him to say goodbye before they took him away. The whole dream was me searching for him. The hospital was some huge house with ladders, and hidden enteries, and lofts. So I was looking and looking for him. I needed to say goodbye, but it was a wild goose chase. I could not find him anywhere. My heart was racing, I knew I needed to see him. I knew he was gone, but in this dream it was one more chance to see him. Of course, I woke up.

And that dream makes me remember sitting in the funeral home, trying to decide what we were going to do for his service. Hub was under the impression we were going to see the body again, like a viewing. I was under the impression that we weren't. So I gently touched him arm and told him no. He nodded, and agreed....but now it is a huge regret. Poor Hub. When we said goodbye to his little body, he didn't know it was forever. I did. But now that dream haunts me, much like I am sure Hub is haunted by not truly knowing it was the last time.

I am desperate to see my little boy again. I am climbing through the house, looking behind doors, wondering where in the hell he is.... and then I remember. I already had my goodbye.

In the first weeks and months after his death, I just wanted time to MOVE. I wanted it to be a year, two years, three years down the road.

Well, here we are. Rapidly approaching 2 years. In a way, it is like any period of time you look back on. "Wow! That was only two years ago?" And in some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. I heard a saying recently "The days are long, but the years are short." That is so true. Day to day over the past 2 years there have been some long days. Hell, there have been some long hours. But I cannot believe I should have a two year old running around, tearing my living room apart.

My life feels divided these days. 3 clear segments. Before he was born. After he was born. After she was born. Obviously, after he was born and after she was born blend together. Because her birth was a happy event. Her birth gave us a renewed sense of living. Technically, we were living after he was born. We took trips, we remembered him. We lived. But we weren't _living_. Living, in it's truest sense of the word is different than just having lived. Lived feels like barely surviving. Living feels like taking an active roll in your life. She taught us what living is all about, it was something we needed to relearn. We had forgotten in the wake of his birth. We lived after he died. We knew we had to live to eventually be living again.

I know that sounds like a bunch of mumble jumble, but if you are in my head, it makes sense.

So, back to my point. It has been 2 years. Does it get better? Yes. Does it still hurt to breathe? Yes. Not everyday, but some days, it may as well be May of 2006, back in that hospital room, trying to give birth to a silent baby. To making the phone calls to our parents "we lost the baby." But other days, you get wrapped up in diapers, and silly songs, and just...well, living. But he is always there. Always. I cannot even tell you how often I think about him. It still is all.the.time. How I play the 'what if' game every single day. What IF my doctor had listened to me when I said 'he doesn't move much....' what IF at my 39 week appointment when his heartrate was so high the doctor had said "hm, that is weird...." What if. What if. What if he had been born alive. I would never know the difference. It is a hard game to play. Everyday he is there. Some people say they can "feel" their loved one with them. I don't. I don't feel him. I want to. I want to feel his presence. But I don't. That makes me sad. I don't know if he is with me like all the greeting cards told me. I hope he is, but I wish I could feel it.

After I lost him, I was desperate to find other loss parents who had gone on to have living children. I thought that was the key. I thought that would make it better. I knew I would miss him still...but I wanted that hope. Well, I am now one of those parents. We have a beautiful daughter. I won't lie, it feels pretty damn good to have a baby born alive. A baby who I got to bring home after giving birth. I now know, it doesn't make it better. In some ways, his loss hit me that much harder. I am now living everything I missed out on. I am thrilled to have that chance, but with her birth game more grief. While I knew it was a possibility, I was hoping to ease my grief, not make it deeper.

But, that being said, with deeper grief, came great joy. In this case, I will gladly to take the bad with the good.

Baby boy, I miss you.

Well, I now need to go back and catch you up.