In the past few weeks, life has picked back up where I left it after Gabriel’s passing. We spent months and months planning on the inevitability of his short life and cherished our moments we had with him. When we returned home, the first week was agonizing and I remember just wanting to lie in bed and cry (which I did plenty of, by the way). Now that I’ve returned to work, and school has resumed after the holidays, life has become busy again. But it’s not the same busy as it was when I was pregnant. Lauren still has her therapies, I still have work and Barry still has commitments at his work. But I’m not rushing to exams and specialists. I’m not making plans for the death of my baby anymore. I feel guilty that I don’t think about it all day every day. And maybe it’s because I’m so busy, and because we’re planning our move to New Jersey in a few short months. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t really dealt fully with his death. I guess I don’t really know how.
Every so often I think about him and it hits me. It hits me like a ton of bricks. Like someone punched me in the gut. My baby boy isn’t here.
Last night, I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed when it hit me. I don’t know why, at that moment while I looked up into the mirror that it hit me. But all of a sudden a sadness washed over me. It took my breath away. Oh my God. My baby isn’t here. I should be exhausted from nighttime feedings. I should be anxiously awaiting the first time he rolls over, his first belly laugh. He should be smiling at me and at his big brother and sister every day. He shouldn’t be sitting a tiny baby urn on my dresser.
Thinking about all the things he would be doing right now if he were here just brings me back to the brief moments we had with him. I miss him so much. I hate that I never got to see his beautiful eyes. Or his smile. I hate that he never got to see our faces and how much we adored and loved him. How much, with every fiber of our being, we wanted him. That this really shitty luck struck my family. Again. I try not to dwell on all of the what ifs but it’s so very hard when my heart hurts to hold him again and have him here with us. I know he’s not here. I know that he died. But it still really sucks.