A month later...

Logan should be a month old now. At least his birth took place a month ago. He shouldn’t have even been here until May. It such an odd thought to have. I should have a thirteen month old, and a one month old today. I think this day is hitting me hard because I remember hitting my stride with my daughter at about a month. We were in our routine, I knew what to do and what to expect. We’d even made it through a scary trip to the ER and a cold. So today I kept thinking about how we’d all be hitting our stride with Logan around here. Aubrey would be getting used to sharing Mommy, Kaida (our dog) wouldn’t be so curious about the new bundle, Daddy and I would be working in synch with a newborn and a toddler. Of course, those are the thoughts I’d have in a perfect world. A world where Logan wasn’t four months premature, a world where my son was perfectly made and not handicapped, a world where my precious baby was still alive. And when I stop to think of all of these things I feel that familiar anger creeping back in. I wonder how long this stage, the anger stage, of grief will stick around. I took a few minutes out this morning to look at Logan’s pictures and talk to him. I’m getting good at keeping the tears under control. But when I picked up his little blanket bundle this morning, I couldn’t help it. It’s like they came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see them coming. But the bundle felt so familiar in my arms, just the perfect size. And I remembered!! I remembered how he felt in my arms for those few short moments. I remembered his tiny body, his warmth, the sadness, the curiosity and the crippling fear and grief. Luckily, I had a busy day planned. I took Aubrey to her first play date this morning. And ironically met a woman about the same age who had three miscarriages, her last also having a Trisomy issue. What are the odds? Pretty good obviously. Odds don’t do a whole lot for me nowadays. She just kept saying how she knew that God was doing what was best for her. And I found myself feeling odd towards her. Isn’t it natural to be angry and sad and confused? Why was she denying these natural and normal feelings? And I selfishly thought that her opinion didn’t matter because she’d never given birth to a dead baby. But I know that wasn’t fair either. I know that loss is loss and I wouldn’t want anyone to feel like I didn’t experience an enormous loss because my baby died at 6 months gestation instead of full term or after he had been born. Maybe she’s in denial. Maybe the distance of three years and two children helps her. Maybe she doesn’t remember how she felt; maybe she was putting on a brave face. I don’t know. She went on to have two boys. She told me that when I had another baby I would heal. I just don’t get it. I just felt like she didn’t get it. But, that’s part of talking to strangers. You don’t know them; you don’t know how they communicate. I enjoyed the play date though. I enjoyed talking to other mommies and watching Aubrey interact with other children for what sadly is the first time. After that I drove out to the jewelers and picked out the new ring I wanted to get in memory of Logan. It isn’t at all what I originally wanted. I had wanted a band with a garnet (his birthstone) in it and his name engraved on the top, perhaps with a sentiment on it. The jeweler couldn’t do that. So I settled for an elegant diamond and garnet Past Present and Future ring. It has a diamond a garnet and a diamond. But, when I looked at it my thought was there’s me (my birthstone is a diamond), just me, before Logan…then there’s Logan, and then just me again. It seemed fitting, before, during and after. I think I will still buy the name ring I wanted originally. I found a few places online that do the lazar engraving that I wanted. Anyhow, aside from being active today, since I think if I’d have sat home I’d have dwelled, I couldn’t get out of my funk. All day my mind kept going back to the fact that I shouldn’t be doing any of the things I was doing today. I should be home. I should be nursing my newborn, burping my newborn, cuddling my newborn. I should be trying to juggle Aubrey and my newborn. I should be telling Aubrey to be sweet and teach her how to touch Logan properly. I should be doing so many things that I’m not, and not doing so many things that I am. I hate that feeling. I hate feeling like I’m living a parallel life, or someone else’s life. I hate that my life isn’t what, just a month ago, I thought it was going to be. I know that life never turns out the way we plan, I get that. But who could have ever imagined it being this different? I can now. Chances are if you’re reading this it’s because you can also. And I hate that too. I miss my son. I miss feeling him. I miss knowing he’s on his way. I miss worrying about the little things that now seem so insignificant. I miss the idea of having a son. I miss the innocence I used to have.