It has been one month since I last saw you smile. Since I last held you close. Since I last nursed you. Since I last kissed the top of your head. Since I last squeezed your chubby thighs, stroked your cheek, tickled your chin, pinched your toes.
I have survived this past month, but I’m not sure how. It has been, at times, torturous. Grueling. So very painful that I don’t know the word to describe it.
It hasn’t been like that every second of every day, thanks to your sister and brother. They have kept us so busy. But even when they make us smile, even when the pain is lessened by an ounce, we ache for you. We miss you so much.
At night, when your sister wakes up to nurse, this is a very difficult time for me. I often sit with her on my chest, crying. Trying to keep the tears from falling on her head. I will kiss the top of her fuzzy head and pretend…wish…dream that I was kissing the top of your head. You were, after all, the one who kept me up most of every night.
I won’t be able to dream that dream much longer. It won’t work, because her hair will grow longer. And then it won’t be fuzzy, like yours was. And it won’t feel like I’m holding you.
I want both time to move quickly, and to stand still. Each month that passes, each milestone Avery reaches, is so very bittersweet. We wonder what you would be doing. How you would be interacting with her. How big you would be. If you would be rolling over, or jumping in the bouncer, or laughing and smiling nonstop, like she is. But I want time to move faster, to help ease my pain. Although, I don’t know if that will work. And something about this raw wound inexplicably makes me feel closer to you.
“I miss you” doesn’t even cover it. I ache for you. There is a part of me that is forever gone. I feel the emptiness inside. I will never be complete, I will never be full again.
My sweet boy. I can’t believe this is my reality.
With all of my love, forever and always,