While everyone is going on about the joys of Christmas and the holiday season, for me, it’s one of the hardest times of year, there is always someone missing. I can’t believe it’s been almost three years. It still feels like yesterday in so many ways. New Year’s Eve is your birthday. If you were here I’d have been planning your party for months now. If you were here we’d have all your Christmas presents picked out and waiting for you like your sisters. If you were here we wouldn’t have an empty fourth hook on our stocking hanger. If you were here I wouldn’t have to feel this heart ache.
But you’re not here.
You’re the ornaments on the tree with your name on it. You’re the reason we are buying ninja turtle presents for a three year old boy we’ve never met. You’re the hole in my heart and in my life. You’re the reason we stand out in the cold freezing our asses off to release a balloon every year. You’re with us even though you’re not here.
December is incredibly hard for me. Not only is it the stress of the holidays and Christmas, trying to afford presents, trying to help out, trying to make it to three different parents houses, not to mention grandparents, trying to find time to have our own family time for Christmas, trying to get everything wrapped, but it’s the month of heartbreaking memories.
I found out my blood pressure was bad again. We found out you were a boy but having problems. We got to hear your heartbeat then we’re told if you weren’t so small you’d be delivered. We were told you might not make it. We prayed. We cried. We begged.
It didn’t matter.
We were told you were gone.
We prayed and we cried and we begged.
It didn’t matter.
I spent my last night with you in my belly and a never ending ache in my heart.
The next few days were the hardest of my life. Waiting for a labor that never happened. Losing so much blood. Having another emergency c-section. Holding my lifeless baby in my arms. Having to let you go. Having to leave you there. Having to see you be taken away. Leaving the hospital empty handed.
I wouldn’t wish the pain of giving birth and leaving the hospital empty handed on anyone. Not even my worst enemy. If I had one. It is BY FAR the worst, soul crushing, heart shattering, mind bending pain I have ever felt. Twice.
I’ve written all this before. I’ve said all this before. I’ve actually stopped writing in this so much because I have said it all before.
But my dear sweet boy, there isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about you. You are in my thoughts with everything I do. Every time we see a penny on the ground we pick it up and say hi to you and tell you we love you. Every time we drive by your park we yell hi and love you. Every time I see a ninja turtle I think of you. Every time I see a mom with her little boy, I think of you. Every time I see a Dad playing with his son, I think of you. Every time I see a dragonfly or a butterfly I think of you. Whenever I’m taking care of our garden, I think of you. Whenever we see a ninja we think of you.
There is never a day that goes by without a thought of you my son. Whether it be me, your dad or your sister, you are always with us.
It’s funny because even though I don’t get to watch you grow, your corner grows. With candles we light on special times for you. With cards in your honor and figurines from your grandparents. With a piece of the balloon string we released last year. With a ninja turtle LEGO guy from some dear friends. With little things that remind us of you.
Zenna loves to hug your bear and it brings tears to my eyes because it’s the closest I’ll ever get to seeing you two together.
Losing you, my son, is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ll never be over it. I’ll never move on. I’ll never be the same again. But I will always cherish the few months I got to carry you. I will always hold dear the times when Zenna spoke to you through my belly. I will always remember holding you in my arms and kissing your face. I will always think of you. I will always do what I can to carry on your memory.
I will always love you.