|You can read this sad Gorilla story here. But don't. Because, well, it's sad.|
So unexpected, so unfair, so unnatural.
I dreamed a life for Jack, one which he'll never experienced. We bought hockey jerseys which bare our last name for the little man who would never wear them. We bought shoes he'd never walk in, and bear suits he'd never wear. A life for him was planned out, dreams of sports, and giggles, of schools, marriage and babies of his own. Then the impossible happened.
I feel guilty that I couldn't protect Jack, even though it was some tiny, microscopic germ that got him and there's nothing more I could do. I wish there was more I could have done, I wished I could have told him I loved him over and over. I mean, I did, but it seems like there would never be enough time to say this, even if he had lived to be 1000 years old.
I carry a lot of guilt within me. I feel guilty about wanting another baby. I feel guilty for wanting the life I wanted before we lost him- to continue to dream of a little boy who will hold my hand because Jack can't. I dream of little girls with ribbons in their hair riding tricycles on the driveway. I fantasize of Christmases where our hearts hurt but aren't broken. Of mother's day where I can hold a living baby in my arms, of catching my husband making goofy faces to elicit a baby giggle. To celebrate 1st birthdays, rather than mourn the loss of a little boy who will only ever be 8 days old.
Any mother worth their name would give their life for their child. Sometimes, illogically, I wish it was me who died. I'm not old, but I'm not young either. I've had a good run at things, and I've had the chance to live. Little Jack didn't get a fair shot at life, his was over when it had barely begun.
There's a lot of guilt to be the one left standing after tragedy. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It hurts my heart to dream of other McBabes when Jack was our dream just a few short months ago. To know I have to give up on this "version" of our dream to live the version which will see us with more children.
I feel so badly that Jack never got a chance. That Jack never really lived. It's so sad to to be the one surviving, to live because he couldn't.