Selective Amnesia

Disclaimer: I apologize if this post makes no sense. I wrote and wrote and wrote without stopping or looking back.

Last night I had a dream that I was breastfeeding a baby boy. I'm not sure if it was Ian or the baby growing inside me now. Either way, it was beautiful and I was reminded of how much I was looking forward to breastfeeding Ian. Any mother who has breastfed can tell you what an incredible bonding experience it is. I wanted that for us.
I'm trying very hard to be at peace. Some days it takes more effort than others. Today is one of those days. I can't stop thinking about him and my heart throbs with love and pain all at once. Every day, I remember something that my brain had managed to block from my memory in an effort to keep me functioning as normally as possible.
When I stepped into a hot shower after a long, busy day a few weeks ago, I remembered the events of that morning, one bye one. I remembered how I got up really early with a dull back ache and how I stepped into a hot shower attempting to relieve the pain a bit and trying to make baby move. I remember poking my belly and whispering "come on, baby, kick me, move, do something". I remembered knowing in the back of my mind that he was gone, yet desperately trying to hang on to hope.
That could never happen to me, I thought. Never. Not me. That kind of thing only happens to others.
It's impossible to think of that day without shedding a few tears.

I also remembered how a few days before he was born, I was folding his clothes and making space for them in the closet when I had this strange feeling come over me. It was telling me that I was never going to use these clothes, not for Ian. I tried to convince myself that I was being paranoid as I often tend to be about any of my children. It was a powerful feeling, scary and sad, but I ignored it. That same night, I had this sudden urge to google "stillbirth stories". I thought for sure my hormones were going crazy and I was simply looking for a way to have a good cry. I read a few stories, sobbed like a crazy, pregnant lady and went to bed. All these signs God was sending me, yet I chose to cling to faith.

The most painful memories, that just recently decided to slap me in the face as well, are the ones of the few days after his birth. That baby-less car ride home, those cold March days without a warm baby to snuggle with, the sudden bursts of tears at the grocery store or any public place at the sight of any mother holding their infant child, my mom literally lifting me off my bedroom floor every time the pain became too much to bear alone....those memories torture me like no others. I don't know if I'll ever make peace with any of those.

The list goes on and on. I don't know if my brain has suddenly decided to torture me with all of these fresh memories or if it has simply decided that I'm ready to cope with them without losing my mind. I've been crying a lot. A lot. There are so many thoughts and emotions going through me all at once. I feel like I have so much to say, yet I'm speechless at the same time.

I feel like the world has moved on without me. Everyone's lives go on and I'm stuck on that day. I hate waking up to beautiful, sunny days and feeling so ugly and dark inside. I hate having to answer questions from two very curious little boys who wonder if this baby will die too. I hate knowing that I will spend an entire lifetime wondering about a little boy who never took a single breath outside of my womb.

It feels like yesterday, but on the 23rd it will be eight long months since I last felt his soft, little body nestled in my arms. Eight months since his short life inside me changed who I am forever. Eight months of warm, salty tears running down my cheeks. Eight months of wondering what he would look like by now. Eight months of trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy. Eight months of grueling heartache. Almost the same amount of time I spent dreaming of holding him, has now gone by with me looking for ways to live without him.

And now, the only things left for me to do is to be grateful. Hard to believe, but I have found ways to be grateful. I feel so blessed and lucky to be the only one who felt him while he was alive. I am the only one who knew his every kick and hiccup. His entire life took place inside me. He went from my womb, straight into the arms of our Heavenly Father. Of all the mommas in the world, He chose me. Me. I carried an angel inside me. And one day, when it is my turn to go, he will be there, waiting for me. I hope it isn't any time soon, but I look forward to it, the same way I was looking forward to breastfeeding him.

There are no words to describe how much I miss you, little boy. I fight through the pain of not having you (physically) with me. Every. Single. Day. But I know your spirit is near. I smell you often. I feel you with me. I love you, cherub. I know some day we will be together again.