Five years old..it keeps running through my head..five years old, we should have had a five year old. Should have…changes the sentence in such a horrific way. I should be thinking about kindergarten – public or private? I should be planning for your party – you were due on January 20th. There would be cute invitations, balloons, trying to resist the urge to be a Pinterest mom – deciding what goes in loot bags.
Often, I find January sad, but less sad then August – the day you actually arrived. Silent, sleeping – we lost you weeks before anyone was able to say hello. This year, I’m not a fan of January. I’m struggling. Tears aren’t far from the surface and heaviness surrounds my heart. My sister asked me what month was harder – January or August? The answer is yes. August is grief, is mourning. It’s the horrible day that your heartbeat went silent. It’s the awful period we didn’t know if I was following you – it is an emotional knot. January, is different. January is a month of crushed dreams, of mourning a future I never dreamed you wouldn’t live out. It’s sadness and heartbreak and a world of what should have been. January, will always be a promise not kept; a story not lived. But I can’t measure or quantify which hurts more. It’s comparing the end to what should have been the beginning, but that missed beginning can really twist the emotional knife.
It’s continuing to walk on broken glass, the shoes of a bereaved mother. Worse than that – being a Still Mother – there is no hope to try again, there is no positive spin or tales about surrogacy and adoption. There is just a small grave, with a very long name and the smallest amount of ashes you could imagine. But in that grave, in the tiny cemetery, lies our hopes, dreams and love. Although, still and silent – the love remains very much vibrant and alive – as it will for the rest of my time on this earth.
Happy 5th Birthday, Thomas. So little, so loved.
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I’m so sorry for your pain. Beautifully expressed. <3