There is a good chance you would have been born by now. We'd be re-learning all about diapers and sleep deprivation.
That was supposed to be your day...our day.
It is less than one month away and I haven't fully contemplated that thought yet. I can't.
When Alex died, it was so near to his due date that it seemed to blur into the initial pain and sorrow. But this...this is like have a healing wound re-opened, inch by painful inch.
Each day that creeps by is another that I have time to contemplate that life where your soul remains...joyfully joining our family...in that parallel universe that is so far away from this reality. That existence where we are happy again and we don't look at everything through the lens of what should have been.
I haven't been dealing with it at all. I've been, quite simply, ignoring it all...fumbling my way through each day the best way I can. Ignorance is bliss, or so they say. So instead of doing the grief work I know I need to do, I've been irresponsible and have turned a blind eye. Why? Because I'm tired of always having to work at this. I'm tired of having to figure out ways just to get through each day. I don't *&%^#! care that it's going to get better if I just work my way through it.
Maybe I don't want it to get better. Maybe not this time.
My husband said to me, "I look at Sam brushing his teeth and think how there should be a little one-year-old running up behind him, trying to imitate his big brother." And what could I say? How could I choose which reality I would take back?
I dealt with losing Alex, so I suppose it's easier for me to put those ghosts to rest...more so than the more recent ones. I keep thinking how I should be hugely pregnant right now. How we could possibly be holding our baby boy. But then Sam brushes his teeth and I'm reminded how very different it ALL should be. Or someone calls who I haven't spoken to in a long time and they say, "Now, how are you? You obviously had your baby, since it's been years since I've talked to you." And all I can say is, "No," as it all crashes down around me...all of it...you and your brother and what should be. Old wounds are re-opened and I'm not sure they will ever heal. How can they?
I did a little dance this morning when my shirt buttoned in front. Not as comfortably as it should, but a far cry better than it did. That's progress, right? Progress...away from 37 weeks pregnant. Progress...away from 9/23/06. Progress...away from you.