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.