Today is the 8 week anniversary of Sawyer's birth. 8 weeks ago today, he came into this world so quietly, and with so much love, hope, and faith. I still don't understand it at all.
Sometimes days go by where I almost feel "normal" again. A little more like myself, and a little more like there's still life to be had. But the overwhelming grief is just lurking around the corner, and it's only a matter of time before it creeps up on me and I am surrounded by it once again. I feel sometimes, like this evening, like I can't even walk anymore . . .just the sheer energy of putting one foot in front of the other is too much to ask.
I want to close my eyes all of the time and remember my boys. I am constantly trying to escape from the moment and the people I am with . . .just to drift away into those sweet memories.
Tonight we were watching a movie, and I just kept imagining Sawyer in his bouncer, dressed in one of his many cute, sweet outfits, sleeping peacefully under our careful watch.
Instead, I'm left with memories . . .just a few. Too few. I was remembering just a few minutes ago how his dad and I used to read him goodnight stories every night he was in the hospital. Tonight it is raining, like it was during the last days of his life, and it brought it all back to me like it was still happening. I had to resist the urge to go up to the NICU and find him waiting for me there, eyes open, arms moving around, legs kicking. He was too REAL, and too alive, and too strong to be gone. I truly believed that each day, he'd be there waiting for me to come to him, grabbing my hand and holding on with all his might . . .until the day we could bring him home.
Life is so different from the way I imagined it. 14 months ago, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I was so happy. Everything I ever dreamed of had come true--I was with the man I loved, and we had conceived our dream baby together. Now, two children and two losses later, we still haven't really even begun to process what has happened to us. All we ever wanted was each other and our boys, and that has been taken from us before we even got a chance.
I've tried all my life to be the best person I could be. Ever since I was a child, I had a very strong conscience and sense of right from wrong. I tried to follow my heart, be kind to others, and serve God. I know I haven't led a perfect life, and I know I've made mistakes, but I did what my parents always taught me to do--I can honestly say I tried my best. So why have I ended up here? My children mean everything to me . . .everything . . .and I can never hold them, or kiss them goodnight, or change them, or bathe them, feed them, dress them . . .all of the things so many people take for granted every single day.
I just want them back.
Sometimes days go by where I almost feel "normal" again. A little more like myself, and a little more like there's still life to be had. But the overwhelming grief is just lurking around the corner, and it's only a matter of time before it creeps up on me and I am surrounded by it once again. I feel sometimes, like this evening, like I can't even walk anymore . . .just the sheer energy of putting one foot in front of the other is too much to ask.
I want to close my eyes all of the time and remember my boys. I am constantly trying to escape from the moment and the people I am with . . .just to drift away into those sweet memories.
Tonight we were watching a movie, and I just kept imagining Sawyer in his bouncer, dressed in one of his many cute, sweet outfits, sleeping peacefully under our careful watch.
Instead, I'm left with memories . . .just a few. Too few. I was remembering just a few minutes ago how his dad and I used to read him goodnight stories every night he was in the hospital. Tonight it is raining, like it was during the last days of his life, and it brought it all back to me like it was still happening. I had to resist the urge to go up to the NICU and find him waiting for me there, eyes open, arms moving around, legs kicking. He was too REAL, and too alive, and too strong to be gone. I truly believed that each day, he'd be there waiting for me to come to him, grabbing my hand and holding on with all his might . . .until the day we could bring him home.
Life is so different from the way I imagined it. 14 months ago, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I was so happy. Everything I ever dreamed of had come true--I was with the man I loved, and we had conceived our dream baby together. Now, two children and two losses later, we still haven't really even begun to process what has happened to us. All we ever wanted was each other and our boys, and that has been taken from us before we even got a chance.
I've tried all my life to be the best person I could be. Ever since I was a child, I had a very strong conscience and sense of right from wrong. I tried to follow my heart, be kind to others, and serve God. I know I haven't led a perfect life, and I know I've made mistakes, but I did what my parents always taught me to do--I can honestly say I tried my best. So why have I ended up here? My children mean everything to me . . .everything . . .and I can never hold them, or kiss them goodnight, or change them, or bathe them, feed them, dress them . . .all of the things so many people take for granted every single day.
I just want them back.
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