It’s been 12 days since my sweet Oliver didn’t wake up. I find that I’m starting to forget what his cry sounded like. Why didn’t I take more videos? Hating myself right now.
My twins were on mama milk exclusively, whether it was straight from the tap, or a bottle at daycare. My body has not gotten the message that my big eater is no longer with us. Poor twin sister is being offered milk way more than previously, as I need some relief. My frozen stash is growing rapidly. Finding it difficult to be overly excited about it.
The funeral is over. Other people say they now feel better. They feel peace. They feel relieved.
I feel nothing. Well, that’s a lie. I feel the anger rising. I’m angry at these people who say they feel peace. Because I don’t. This is not peaceful, this is WRONG. My beautiful baby boy should not be in a box in the ground, with flowers thrown on top. He should be in my arms, nursing, growing, cooing, laughing.
This is not better, this is not relief. This is not peace.
is today. I’m dreading it. It will make it all real again. And I’m not prepared.
Time to unlike all of the twin-specific pages on Facebook. Why did I like/join so many?? Ugh.
My sweet Oliver died in his sleep on Friday, July 8, 2016. I’m using this space as an outlet for my thoughts, coherent or not, that I need to get out.
Oliver was 4 months old, and leaves behind a twin sister, Avery, a big brother Henry, and two heartbroken, grief-stricken parents.