I'm sick with grief.
My heart is so heavy. so sad. When does healing come? What does it mean to be healed when I will ALWAYS be separated from and missing my son? What is healing then?
My little boy is gone. My baby should be 15 months old. Not a baby anymore. A toddler. I don't even know what a 15 month old does. Would he be talking? Saying mama and dada? Standing? Walking?
No, he's a baby. Always a baby to us. Do babies stay babies in Heaven?
His beautiful new crib packed into boxes in my parent's basement. His mattress, unused.
Diapers, never opened. Wipes given away...without my permission. Those were supposed to be his wipes. He never needed them. I never got to change his stinky diapers. I wanted to so badly. I couldn't wait.
His tiny clothes, I washed and folded them so carefully. Tucked away in his dresser...taken out and packed away the day he was born. Not the way it was supposed to be. Little hats and socks...so tiny, unimaginable that he would fit into something so tiny. He never wore them.
Stored in boxes in a closet. Blankets and towels with hoods, soft little washcloths and a quilt. A huge, colorful, beautiful red fleece blanket. I wanted to lay him on it and snuggle with him, Dorothe. Thank you making it so lovingly for him.
So many stuffed animals waited for him in his crib. So many people left waiting.
I regret not calling everyone I knew to come and meet my son face to face. The one day I got to spend holding him in my arms. A first time mom, clueless and afraid of hurting him. I knew I couldn't hurt him, but I was clumsy and unsure of myself. I just wanted him to stay, stay a bit longer with us.
I want everyone to know him. Know my baby, our son.