It’s been four years. I should have a four year old.
I should be cleaning stickers off the windows. I should have a car seat with cheerios, goldfish crackers and enough dropped food to last us a week. I should have play dates and prepping for preschool; although, I was pushing for Montessori. My phone should be filled with pictures of a four year old – not three dachshunds. (Although, they are pretty cute).
Our couch should no longer be white. There should be toys scattered about the house. There should be dirty handprints and crafts hung in the kitchen. But instead, the only toys around our house belong to the dogs. Our couch gleams white, mocking me. The only thing in the kitchen is food.
Four years ago, on the day that I write this, they told my husband that they had lost Thomas’ heartbeat. Four years ago, everything changed.
Comatose, I would remain oblivious for several more weeks.
I remember the first day I heard his heartbeat; it was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. It was strong and robust and alive. It filled me with joy and wonder and I felt my face light up. You could tell the resident loved his job, that day.
I wasn’t conscious when Rob was told there was no longer a heartbeat, but I know the OB hated his job that day – him or whichever one of the massive team of specialists had to break the news.
The first year, I wore my memorial necklace daily – it was my talisman, my proof that Thomas did exist. It was my tangible reminder I was indeed a mother. Gifted to me by “strangers” the wonderful women from my January Birth Facebook group honoured me as a mother before I could even truly grasp I would never raise our child. Over time and with healing, I took it off, but guarded it fiercely.
Today, four years later, I woke up feeling the need to wear my necklace before I was even aware of the date. I mostly focus on the day Thomas entered the world, not on the day when he slipped away. But even without knowing the date, my heart, soul and spirit did. My heart knew this was the day the world became too quiet. That one heartbeat, that had bravely survived against so many odds – couldn’t survive without my own heartbeat. My own heartbeat was far from stable and couldn’t hold on to him.
Such irony; my heartbeat couldn’t sustain him, yet my heart has remained irreparably broken from that date on. Four years down, my entire life to go.
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A loving reminder of Thomas and how much you miss him. My heart breaks with yours. Beautifully and poignantly written. I hope it helps you and others who have lost a child.
Amazing! Another beautiful tribute to sweet Thomas. Your son sure raised an amazing momma