2018,  BabyA2012,  Grieving Mom

Day 57

I hope you didn’t suffer. They say you didn’t. I hope you didn’t know what was happening. They suspect you had no idea but without a reason we will never know for sure. I hope you only felt all the love that fills this house and constantly surrounded you and drifted peacefully off to sleep. It haunts me that I wasn’t there. That your Dad wasn’t there. We were completely unaware what was happening in our little house. It haunts me and will forever. After everything how did we not at least get the chance to hold you and surround you with love for your last minutes. It wouldn’t have changed anything I know, but you would have been in our arms where you belong. I’ll never understand why we were robbed of that. Robbed of you. So I hope, you knew no fear and only peace and love.

Life seems to be at a standstill most days. It’s like nothing is moving but everything is changing all at once. I struggle going places because I’m constantly counting and looking for 4. I forget sometimes why the counter looks so empty. For 6 years there was a feeding pump, stand and a measuring cup constantly right there. I miss chasing your hearing aid and where we put it after you went to bed. I miss the morning rush of getting you off on the bus. I miss the numerous times I watched your Dad put you back to bed when all you wanted to do was wake your brothers. I miss it all. Even the not so fun times. I’d do those over in an instant if it would give me more time.

I feel enormous guilt trying to move on and make memories for the kids when everything in my heart hurts and I really don’t want to. It shouldn’t be this way. I feel guilt because even though this is the absolute hardest thing I could ever imagine going through, some days I’m in the van and think “wow that was easy. That was fast. That was blahblahblah”. Like I can just say, everyone grab their shoes and get in the van we are going shopping/out to eat/to the park/etc and there doesn’t need to be any preparation. Everyone can climb in and out of their seats alone. My arms are empt to carry things like grocery bins or my purse and water but what I wouldn’t give to be carrying you and making those multiple trips in and out of the house in the rain. We’ve planned and organized and carried you almost everywhere for 6 years and 2 months. It may be “easier” to get places logistically but there is nothing easy about any of this. It brings so much sadness and guilt and despair.

I can’t even put into words how much I miss you, Noah. I can hardly speak your name out loud without crying uncontrollably. I long to hear you. To see you. To cuddle with you. These past few days have been especially hard. No real extra reason but my God, my heart is aching. Like I feel like it’s physically broken. It physically hurts.

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