Happy Birthday my sweet boy!

It's hard to believe it's been two years since I carried you in my womb, where you knew only love and warmth. It's been two years since my world came crashing down. Two years since I held you in my arms, felt your weight, cuddled with you and kissed you. We didn't have nearly enough time together. My heart broke into a million pieces all over again when I had to give you away to the nurse so she could take you to the morgue. Two years ago I went home with empty arms and a purple memory box. I had to look forward to choosing between burial and cremation and when we chose cremation we had to choose which urn would be your 'home.' Instead of enjoying the early days of your life in our home we were left planning arrangements with the funeral home director. I had to leave you in the hospital all alone. Leaving you there was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You belong with me. I am your home. Your home is my heart. That is where you are and where you'll stay. You are so loved and so very missed. I think about you always. You transformed the very essence of my being. You taught me a new Love. Love in the midst of heartache, pain, and devastation. You are so unique and special. You are my son and I love you so very much.

Happy Birthday, Duncan!

12.21.08

Today brings pain, sadness, yet hope and peace. Pain and sadness because this is the day our precious son was due. Even though babies come on their own time this was the day we came to anticipate and look forward to. I wanted a holiday baby. He was due today on Winter Solstice. The shortest day and longest night of the year. I fantasized and imagined the weeks and days leading up to his birth.

I imagined he was going to be born around this time. I envisioned what his birth was going to be like. Warm cookies and Christmas movies playing. That is what I wanted. I wanted the atmosphere to be inviting and cozy. I was going to have a blissful and empowering birth surrounded by my husband, awesome midwife and daughters. This little tiny person growing inside me all this time was going to be born at home into my arms. He was going to be welcomed with Absolute love and joy. I was going to hold him tightly against my bare chest, kiss and smell his head and take in the whole experience. I was expecting this plump juicy crying baby. One I could nurse and cuddle up with. I wanted the prize. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

There was no pot of gold, though. No prize. No plump juicy crying baby. No happy birthday. Instead, 5.2 weeks ago at this very minute our precious Duncan was born silent. My absolute worst fear had come true. The one thing I dreaded throughout all of my pregnancies had finally happened. It was the day that would forever change our lives. It was the day the old me died and the new me was born. No longer was I the same woman or mother.

He is the son I'll never get to know. The hopes and dreams we had for him were shattered in an instant. Our whole world changed. Instead of expecting a baby at the end of the pregnancy I'm left with empty arms.

With pain and sorrow comes hope and peace. Our son may not physically be here with us, but he is in our hearts. He lives on in our memories. He will not be forgotten. He held on for just shy of 35 weeks. He was nestled in my womb and knew nothing but Love. He's our beautiful son. So very much loved and cherished. I know he's still with us. We finally have the answers and it can allow us to truly come to peace and continue forward on this journey.

Drowning In Tears

My milk is in now and I can't stop crying. I have no baby to feed. My heart aches and I'm numb, so numb and raw. My arms empty when they're supposed to be full. My heart hurts. My whole world was shattered in an instant and now I'm reminded of what I don't have. My son is gone. He's not here with me, in my arms receiving my warm milk, that liquid life. I can not stare into his eyes and watch him fall blissfully asleep while hugged tightly to my breast. I'm left wanting and yearning for my baby, my son and my heart to be whole again. It hurts. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I just want to be whole again.