It's been one year. My heart doesn't hurt any less my dear boy. Sometimes I fear it hurts more. I know many feel I should be "over this" by now. That it shouldn't hurt this bad because I didn't know you long. That somehow 50hrs of knowledge, the fact that I never held you, means I couldn't possibly love you with the fierce mamma bear passion I have for your brothers and sister. That only leads into the next thing; the guilt.
You were to be approximately 15weeks, 3days that day in the ER. At least 3 missed periods. A nagging feeling in my gut told me to test. I didn't. But you see Daddy had surgery two years prior. My blessing, logically you shouldn't have been. Yet, the feelings continued. I told myself I hit menopause, that I was just being broody. The heartburn and the cravings for chocolate covered raisings, ham subs and an insane amount of green grapes, were just my normal struggle with food. The inability to lose weight, even with the help of a trainer was because I ate too much junk.
Despite my instinct, with each month that passed, I still put off testing. I drank, I ate things with aspartame, and I ate deli meat. I cleaned the cat litter twice a day, and worked out hard. The list of all the things I never did before, I was doing then. It doesn't matter how many people tell me it wasn't my fault, or how many times, I still blame myself. It's why I can't stay mad at God. Why as hard as I want to blame the omnipotent higher being even today, nothing inside me feels even an ounce of that for Him. As for me? Me....
There are a millions reasons/excuses I didn't listen to my instincts. The bottomline is I failed you. Yes, parents fail their children all the time in one way or another. But my failure killed you. I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that.
In the last year I've tried to heal. To deal with your passing. I cried a lot. Focused on your siblings. Threw myself into working out, work and cleaning. I even started writing you a song. Did you know I haven't written in years? I thought my poetry and songs were crap, so I threw them all out over 10yrs ago. Yours was my first attempt since. I haven't been able to finish it though. I will one day. I promise I'll sing so loud you'll hear it in Heaven.
There's a boy here. You would've been three months apart. Just like your sister and one of his sisters. I think you would have been good friends. I got to hold him a little while ago. I'll be honest, my broken heart wished I was holding you.
I went through so much anger after losing you. The thoughts that raced through my mind were so irrational. There's another angel baby in Heaven, I hope you have the chance to know her. Her mom helped me so much. I could tell her each dark thought and she helped me feel normal.
I hope you get to know all the angel babies of the women who walked with me in my grief this year.
Dear angel of mine, many may not think I'm thakful for your siblings still with me, because my mourning for you is so strong. But, I am so thankful because I imagine all their best qualities, the compassion, jokes, smiles, stubbornness, would have been all rolled up into you.
My dearest Emmitt, I know I'll meet you one day. I'll get to hold you and see if you look as I imagine. But some days, Heaven seems so far away, and dealing with your loss literally knocks me to my knees. And I'm simply not ready to deal with all that pain.
Always in my heart,