Monday, December 19, 2011

Another Manic Monday...

Today is just... One of those days.

I miss my boy. So much. It goes without saying I miss him with every beat of my heart, and every breath that I take. I just yearn to hold him one last time and simply refuse to believe he's been gone nearly a year now. A year ago I had so much excitement about what still lay ahead... And now, I have move so far beyond him that it's beyond my comprehension that I have not yet died of a broken heart. If someone could, I know I would have.

Fresh from the oven.
It's still fresh in my mind those early days when I would close my eyes and simply wish they would never open again... That I would not have to go on functioning without my son in my arms. The days where in I honestly believe that if I did not have Scott by my side, I would have ceased to exist all together.

Where the only time we left the house was to forge for food and once seated at a restaurant realize nothing actually "looked good" -we ate for nourishment only. The days where we would sit across the table from one another and he would tell me, "I only get out of bed for you now".  Or he would remind me "if anything ever happened to you..." and end the sentence with a knowing look.

And yet it's been nearly a year since we had him. Nearly a year since we lost him. It's been a bitter-sweet offering that this year has flown by.  It seems the least fate could provide that it would pass so quickly, and yet I find I can barely remember what it felt like to be pregnant with him. I remember specific things, like how if I were to lay on my side and cuddle up behind Scott, Jack would repeatedly kick Scott in the ass until I moved. He wasn't uncomfortable. No...  I honestly believe he was showing Scott who was boss. It was him, all 7 pounds of delicious baby boy.

In the many biophysical ultrasounds we had in the latter weeks, he would kick and shuffle around my belly, making it hard for the ultrasound technician to take accurate measurements. When this happened, the technician would take a break and invite Scott into the room to check him out on the screen. Jack was clearly showing off the dance moves he inherited from his daddy. At the sound of his daddy's voice, my little boy would grow still and wait to hear it again before he started dancing again. The technician said this was often the case- that Jack knew his daddy's voice, and would become so intent on hearing if that he would stop moving to get a better listen. I don't know whether it's all bullshit or not, but it makes my heart melt to think that Jack's love for his daddy existed long before they met face-to-face.

Scott held him first, just moments after he was born. He cuddled Jack skin-to-skin on his chest, and repeatedly told me how cute Jack was from over the blue blanket dividing Jack and I as I lay on the operating table. Scott spoke to him, telling him he was going to be alright. I told Jack, upon first meeting his gaze, that we had waited our whole lives to meet him, and we had. And now we wait again, until our lives are through, and he waits for us this time.

This is just one of those days where the sky is overcast and cold rain is falling and I'm remembering a little boy who wasn't all that far away not all that long ago. And I'm missing him and the world I lost when I lost him. And I'm inconsolable, and feeling quite sorry for myself.

Ps. As I type this, I've felt several strong kicks from my sweet little girl, and I remember just how much I have to be grateful for. I love her, I love her, I love her. But fuck do I miss her brother.

pss. I have to laugh- I typed maniac monday...ahahaha


B. Wilson said...

That is one beautiful little baby.

I'm inconsolable, too. As you know. Those words you wrote of the very beginning of this journey made me remember back to when my grief was so raw that I could literally itch my skin and feel it. I felt that surely I'd die as well... if the amount of tears one expelled could make that possible.

The winter is so awful and torments. I hope our lives feel brighter. They already do, but it's nearly impossible to forget just how scathed we are from these deep wounds.

LookItsJessica said...

Jack is so very precious and handsome. Like Brandy-- your post reminded me of the horrible first few weeks after I got out of the hospital.

Though our stories are so different and basically cannot even be compared, its interesting to know that those feelings of grief are so universal among baby loss moms and dads.

Hope's Mama said...

Jack is such a gorgeous baby boy, and it is so horribly unfair he's not here. Too cruel for words.

Molly said...

Srsly... :(

Tiffany said...

You took the words right out of my mouth... Sending you extra love tonight.
PS I think Jack looks just like you in that picture!

Renel said...

Oh I am missing with you.. Just yesterday and so far away simultaneously. I know you love Jack's baby sister with all your heart and also missing Jack with ALL your heart. He is just so beautful. What a sweet face. I wish wish wish it was different. I wish he was alive.

Angela said...

Gorgeous little boy, love his newly born face. I wish he was here with you. I know how hard it is to find a balance between the one who is here - his sweet sister growing and kicking - and the one who is gone. Lots of love as his birthday approaches.

crystal said...

Jack is beautiful!!! I really believe that the babies do know our voices before they meet us. Every single time Landon heard my husbands voice, he would stop moving. I had to make my husband be quiet just so he could see him move because if he ever said a word that was it, Landon would stop :)

Brooke said...

He's so gorgeous. Oh, how well I remember that awful, nauseating, hopeless despair of the early days. I'm glad you and Scott have each other. I just hate how hard this is.

Tiffany said...

"I love her, I love her, I love her. But fuck do I miss her brother." ditto for me too.

Jack is so adorable. thank you for sharing that memory with us. i felt like i was there.

missing our boys together...

Amy L. said...

He is so precious, and your post was perfectly said. I still feel all the things you described. It's only been 4.5 months since we lost our twins, and those "if I lost my husband, too" thoughts come at least once per week. And we all are. It's amazing, and yet seems unfair sometimes that we should have to live our lives without our children.

Melissa said...

You write beautifully. Ditto Tiffany in that I felt like I was there too. ((hugs)) friend

Monique said...

Your boy is beautiful. Sending love to get through this season.

Natasha said...

I remember those early days so is unreal to me as well that I'm still here- still breathing- when at that time I felt like I would surely die from my broken heart.

So glad you and your husband have each other and that your sweet baby girl is giving you kicks of love. I'm sure big brother Jack told her mama needed some extra love ♥ ♥ ♥

Caroline said...

Oh what a perfect baby. Just so awful and unfair he's not here with you. He's perfect. Always will be too.

I'm sorry you had a rough day. I'm glad you love him so much though. He certainly deserves that.

Lots of love to you and your little girl as you miss your boy

Becky said...

Can't get enough of how handsome that little boy is and how beautifully you write about him.

Completely agree with you on loving the little babe kicking me but sure do miss my little boy.

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