5/6/18-(2:09pm)-(Interesting timing)-Hi Baby Boy. I love you. I miss you but there aren’t even words to tell you how deeply and completely. So much it makes my stomach clench and shudder when I try to exhale through my tears. Today is hard. This month is excruciating. Distractions aren’t working, and as I said before, it all just boils down to missing you. You are always going to be my favorite person in this world or the next. I try to remember that Daddy’s DNA made up half of yours and when I show my love to him, maybe somehow that means I’m still loving you here, too.
Two-years ago at this time, we were at your daycare desperately rifling through pictures and trying to get everything set up for your memorial service. There was an army of family and friends helping us but I was still stressed to the max trying to make every detail perfect for you. A balloon crew, people we didn’t even know preparing food in the kitchen, a thoughtful set of cakes from your uncle, a smoothie from your aunt that I couldn’t even force myself to drink, all your favorite toys on display, and more people than we even had time to hug. Your cousins even flew in from Washington JUST FOR YOUR SERVICE and turned around and took a plane ride home. I have tried to tell myself that this is where my focus should be. I’m trying to remember all the outpouring of love for you and all the ways you are still making us better people. However, I can’t help feeling like I’m suffocating without you.
Apparently, it is Bereaved Mother’s Day today. It’s an interesting concept I just learned of that I suppose at least recognizes that next Sunday doesn’t have the same meaning it once did. I guess it is to acknowledge all of the mommies who have to live without their favorite people but it doesn’t make me feel any better. Yes, I wish I could still be gifted with your simple handprint art but once again, all I really ever needed then and now is you. I never needed or wanted anything special for holidays or birthdays because we already had enough just being together.
Baby Boy, I admit that I still have the gift card Daddy gave me six days after we lost you (my first Mother’s Day here without you). I actually have a plastic bag with several other gift cards I’ve never used, too. It’s not that I’m not using them on purpose, but I will go to a store or online and I try to find something, but I just don’t have any desire to buy the things I once might have. None of these things matter anymore and I’m already spending too much time going through all the extra “stuff” we don’t need and that is cluttering our house as it is.
I knew we had it all then, and Baby Boy, I really WAS grateful. As you can hopefully see now, you are spending your days (or whatever they are where you are) with so many people we were lucky enough to know here on Earth. We will always love them and be excited to hug them someday, too, but no one will ever compare to you. We were already taught many lessons about not taking our days for granted, so I don’t understand why Daddy and I had to have you stolen away to keep that ingrained in our minds.
If there IS one thing that has shifted more than anything it is that my priorities are narrowed. I don’t try to keep as wide of a social circle and I’m doing my best at setting more boundaries to avoid the toxic, draining people or tasks that used to claim more of my time. Mommy never cared much about what other kids at school or other social circles had to say but now it is even more evident. EVERYONE has an opinion on what I should or shouldn’t be doing, but I have bags and bags of something I’m pretty sure you were also born with - IDGARA “I Don’t Give A Rat’s…uh, um, Arm.” You got along with everyone you ever met, but you also always did your own thing, too. I remember your teacher sending me a picture of you “reading” to yourself in your cubby. This was normally reserved for “me time” when someone got in trouble, but you didn’t care. Apparently, you must’ve wanted to read a story and have some time to yourself, so you did.
Caleb Lennon, I will live the rest of my life trying to be more like you. You needed some “me time,” but you didn’t see it as a negative thing. Baby Bear, Mommy is still learning how to have that “me time,” but it is something so foreign and not one I’ve ever been comfortable practicing. I HAVE had to step away from the crowd and have some solitude far more often than I have ever had to do in my life, but it’s still different than the kind of space you gave yourself. In fact, I don’t remember hardly any instances before losing you that I felt the kind of discomfort being in a crowd of people (unless it was a stuffy, formal party where people were going to great lengths to impress each other). Mommy has always been a person that liked people and is even fascinated by our differences. You were starting to grow up and become very similar as well. I DO believe in the idea from Will Rogers “I never met a man I didn’t like.” I don’t think we have to like everyone, but I DO think there is something to like about each person.
I love everything about you and that makes not having you here such a stab in the chest. I will always love you. One thing that is sure to make me absolutely crazy is for people to talk about my love for you in the past tense. THAT WILL NEVER BE TRUE! Please tell everyone to stop saying that. My love for you will always be constant. There is nothing anyone can say or do to me that will ever change that. Maybe it sounds crazy but I loved you even before I was pregnant with you. I didn’t know you like I do now, but I do know I’ve always loved you and I will keep loving you for infinity.
Mommy wrote something about 6 months ago but never posted it anywhere. It seems appropriate on this “Bereaved Mother’s Day” to share it, especially for the others I’ve “met” online who also know what it is like living with this overwhelming ache. (link at the bottom/next blog post)
Someday I will shed this body and this growing knot that lives inside of me and there will never be days like this again.
I LOVE YOU.
Before, then, now, and always. I love you forever, Little Boy.
P.S. Thank you for the perfectly-timed ladybug that came to see me when I needed it most.