I haven’t written in a while and I know I said it was going to be because I was going write Renix’s story, which I fully intend too, but I haven’t even started it yet. I can’t bring myself to start writing it because I know it’s going to hurt so much. I haven’t been able to bring myself to write in here either because every time I do, it’s an overload of feelings. It’s the pain. When I sit down and actually start letting my thoughts and feelings flow, it hurts so much! I’m already crying now while typing this and I haven’t even said anything yet. It’s the hardest thing to deal with is the feelings because I can’t control them. Most days I get up and can pretend to be ok for the most part. I love my husband, my daughter and my family and friends, they make me laugh and smile and bring joy to my life, but just under the surface of every moment, even the happy ones, is the pain of knowing my son will never get to enjoy these moments with us. I try not to think about it like that, but I can’t help it. I can’t smile without feeling guilty. I can’t laugh or be happy without there being an underlining feeling of guilt, pain and sadness. I’m sure the guilt will go away eventually. I know that my son would want his mommy to be happy, but I still can’t help but feel as if I let him down and failed him, maybe if I was healthier, or skinnier, or younger, or ate better, or drank more water, or exercised more or 100 other things I could have done differently that maybe one of them would have changed his outcome. And then I can’t believe myself when I’m crying and upset and the scenario I’m wishing for would be one that I never wanted to live through again. The pain of watching my daughter come into the world too soon, and not being able to bring her home for the 44 longest days my whole life. Watching her being attached to machines and tubes, I hated it!! I’m so glad they were there and able to take care of my daughter and help her but I wouldn’t wish those times on anyone. So it’s really hard for even me to comprehend it myself when that is the scenario I dream about. If he would have made it, he would most likely be born by now. I’d be 36 weeks tomorrow. That’s 6 weeks past where Z made it. Actually that’s right about the time she was coming home. Meaning my little boy could be, should be, home with me right now, in my arms, instead of an angel in heaven and ashes in a jar. I know it’s not healthy or helping anything for me think this way, but I can’t change it, and as much as I think it, I was told multiple times there was nothing I could have done differently to change the outcome. But as a mother how do I accept that. I mean I have no choice I know. But as mothers we would go to the ends of the earth and not take no for an answer to protect our kids, and I can’t help but feel like I didn’t do enough. I feel as if I let my husband down, because I am not able to give him a son and I continue to let him down because I am no longer the same woman he fell in love with and married. I have all this emotion and feelings I don’t know what to do with. I have always been an overly emotional person. I have a huge heart and I just try to love and take care of the people who are important to me. I worry about others feelings a lot, more than I should and I have always worn my heart on my sleeve. But now it’s ridiculous. I can’t experience any substantial amount of emotion without having a breakdown. What I mean by that for example is, Ben and I got into a little argument, nothing serious, nothing all couple don’t do, but I couldn’t handle it, and even though logically I knew I was being ridiculous, I couldn’t stop crying for hours, the fight doesn’t even matter anymore, and I’m just pouring out emotions from my eyes. And this wasn’t the first time, nor probably will it be that last. My poor husband is holding me and listening to me say things I’ve said a hundred times before. I’m broken. I hurt. I don’t know how to be normal. It’s not fair. It’s not right. What if we had done something differently. All the same things I’ve said here a hundred times before too. Logically, I know there are no answers. Logically, I know it’s all just going to keep taking more time and some if it is just never going to go away. It’s almost an out of body experience as I am sitting there having a breakdown, crying uncontrollably, I can think, this is silly, there is not answers to these questions and crying and having an emotional breakdown is not going to help or change anything, but I can’t stop it from happening. Most days I can go about my day fairly normal, but it’s those moments that hit you when you least expect it that kill me. I took Z to see the Easter bunny yesterday, then let her play on the quarter machines at the mall. There were other kids playing and one of the moms asked “you have two kids?” I replied with “no, just her” but I was thinking yes I do, the other one died. I then feel guilty like I’m not acknowledging my son, but at the same time I don’t feel like telling this stranger the pain I am in on a daily basis, nor do I want her looks of pity. It’s the moments when I am alone, like in the shower, I cry almost every time I take a shower alone. It’s when I was making dinner the other night and I grabbed a block of cheese out of the fridge that weighed 8oz, which is what Renix weighed, I’m standing my kitchen crying over a brick of cheese, then I had to pull out the tape measure to see if it was as long as him too, but he was longer by a few inches. It’s no matter what I am doing, just underneath the surface is always this unbearable amount of pain and sadness, and overwhelming emotion. They say the amount of grief you feel is equal to the amount of love you felt for the person. Well as most moms know there is no words to describe a mothers love because it is immeasurable thats how vast it is. That is also how vast, and immeasurable the hole in my heart is.