I feel like for the past two years I’ve been angry. Since you left I’ve been so so angry. I’m angry that I couldn’t save you. I’m angry that my body didn’t do it’s job. I’m angry that my son, my daughter, my husband, my family has had to go through this. I’m angry that I can’t have my dream of multiple kids. I’m angry that people don’t really seem to care anymore. I’m angry that people don’t seem to think I’m still hurting. I’m angry that you’re not here. I’m angry that god didn’t save you. I’m angry that god didn’t save me. I’m angry that we’ve had to go through this in the first place. I’m angry that time makes it easier to deal with because underneath I am angry that the raw gut wrenching soul crushing pain never goes away. I’m angry that no matter what I did or how much I prayed god still took you anyway. I’m angry that people act like you never existed. I’m angry that people who should care you existed don’t. I’m angry that I can’t hug and kiss my baby boy anytime I damn well please. I’m angry that I have to watch other people in the world have babies they ignore, neglect, abuse or don’t even want when I would give anything to see you for just 1 minute. I’m angry that my daughter at 4 year old knows all too well what death is. I’m angry that she never got to meet her baby brother. I’m angry that she has had to see her mommy cry sooo much that she automatically knows “miss Renix mama”. I’m angry that people can go on with their lives like nothing happened. I’m angry that no one says your name. I’m angry that come holidays and other celebrations you are not even mentioned by most of our family. I’m angry that after two years I’m still so angry. I’m angry that I’ve been told my whole life to “give it to god” “have faith” “just pray” and yet I did all those things and he still took you from me. I’m angry that my husband will never get his son. I’m angry my daughter won’t know what it’s like to have that sibling who you wanna murder one minute but you know would always be there for you the next. I’m angry that I still wake up wishing it was all a bad dream. I’m angry that it comes so easy and natural to some people who don’t even want it or care while others suffer wanting so badly to have that child. I’m angry that I feel bad for wanting to share your picture. I’m angry that I can’t hang your picture on my wall with out fear of what others would say or think. I’m angry that I can’t share your pictures on fb and tell people how you’re doing. I’m angry that even the pictures I do have of you, no one wants to see. I’m angry that I can’t talk to you. I’m angry that anytime I’m asked how many kids I have I either have to lie and feel guilty or explain “my son died” I’m angry that my daughter has had to explain to others “Renix died, his heart stopped beating” I’m angry that she she even knows what it is. I’m angry that it feels like no one understands and those that do certainly don’t need my burdens on top of their own. I’m angry that I spend my days taking care of others peoples children but don’t get to take care of you. I’m angry that when people do ask or talk to me about my feelings I get a lot of them telling me how I should feel instead of just letting me feel whatever I want. I’m angry that’s it’s so fucking cold out I don’t even wanna go outside to use my punching bag. I’m angry that I’m still so angry and don’t know what to do about it. I’m angry that most of this anger seems to come out on my husband and my daughter even though I don’t mean for it or want it too. I’m angry that even writing in here just feels like I’m repeating the same things I’ve already said over and over and over. Im angry. I’m so angry. I’m so fucking angry. I AM SO FUCKING ANGRY! Why my son? Why my family? Why didn’t god save him? Why couldn’t I save him? What could I have done differently? Why is my son not right fucking here in my arms where he belongs???