Family

I’ve been meaning to write for a while now but it’s been hard to find the words. We’ve settled into our new-to-us-new-jersey-life and it’s been busy. It’s our first move with Lauren, our toddler, who has some special needs and requires several hours of therapy per week. I’ve started a new job, Max has started a new school (well, actually two schools since our town doesn’t have full day Kindergarten), and Barry is navigating his new role at work. It’s been a good distraction as we approach November 14th. It has been almost a year since we met, held, kissed, and said goodbye to Gabriel.

I have struggled for the last few weeks knowing that with the changing season and the holidays, his birthday will come. Do we celebrate it? Should we have cake? Or should we be sad knowing that instead of picking out an Elmo smash cake, putting up decorations, and celebrating his first year of life, we are reminded that it’s been a year since we held him.

Maybe we will do both. I can’t shake the feeling that 1 year is going to turn into 10 and his memory and life will become more and more distant. Sometimes I catch myself having to look in my phone for pictures to remember which day he was born. No one should forget their child’s birthday. But sometimes, I do. I don’t think it’s some sort of dysfunctional coping mechanism or anything, but in the days leading up to my induction, I likely didn’t know or care about the date. My sole focus was on meeting him, loving him, and preparing myself to say goodbye to him. And now, I don’t have the luxury of planning a first birthday party for my last baby. Instead, I am reminded every day that my kids are growing up and the bitter sweetness of this serves as a constant reminder that there is one who is missing.

Max still talks about Gabriel, “the baby we had that died”, and still doesn’t seem to fully understand it. But why would he? He was 4 years old and he met Gabriel for about 20 minutes. We still talk about him, but it’s become sort of awkward for me to talk to people about it. It’s almost like it’s a passing subject in a conversation about something else.

“How many kids do you have?”… “Two *sucker punch*”

“Are these your only kids?” … “Yup *sucker punch*”

“Do you think you’ll have more kids?” … “No, we’re done. *sucker punch*”

Because bringing him up in conversation makes me feel like a sad pathetic person who hasn’t gotten “over it” yet. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Sometimes I talk about him and it feels good, and sometimes I talk about him and I immediately regret it. I guess that’s just part of this journey, because as much as you want to talk about your child who died, there aren’t a ton of people who want to hear about it. But, he is part of our family and we will continue to keep his life and memory relevant. Because, he is.

Life is overwhelming with Maxwell and Lauren and the daily demands that we have rarely afford us an opportunity to relax. Life would be infinitely busier, more expensive, and more tiring with a soon-to-be-one-year-old. But man, would it be sweeter.