2 Month Birthday Pictures/Video

Daddy blowing bubbles

Mommy blowing bubbles

Happy 2 Month Birthday Gabriel!!!

2 Month Birthday

Today was our little ones two month birthday. I can't believe he has already been gone for two months! Where is all the time going? I spent most of the day imagining what it would be like if he was here...it seems like I do that a lot lately. I wish even more that I could be with him today, holding him, kissing him, checking on him in heaven. I don't know if I could ever get use to this life without him, it looks like I have no choice though. My husband does that thing where you take a fallen eye lash and you blow it off the tip of your finger while making a wish. He always asks me what I wish for and I reply that it  is something I can't have. Tonight he told me to wish for something that could actually change...I told him I couldn't. Why am I incapable of wishing or hoping for something different? Why can't I just accept Gabriel is gone? I remember the friday after I had given birth to Gabe. We had already said our final goodbye's the night before and I was still in the hospital for monitoring. My husband took me down to the prayer garden, I could hear all the busy traffic going on outside of the hospital...I kept wondering how everyone else could keep going while I felt incapacitated. How was life still going on around me when I felt dead inside? I feel that way now, how has it been so long already? How has my life kept going? We went out to the cemetery today of course, pinwheels, flowers and bubbles in hand. It was cool around the time we went, beautiful weather compared to the stuffy heat of the day. I held it together really well I think, but now that the sun has set and my mind has a chance to process it, I am hurting. I am sad and angry that my son was taken from me. I miss him....

An Afternoon Of Thinking

It is during the silent hours of the day that it is most apparent my son is not here. The dates on the calender carry a new meaning, whether it is how many days since his death or a great milestone I am missing. I have no ambition, no drive to do much of anything right now. Some days I wake up with every intention of changing this, a deep desire runs through me to be artistic with my photography. But yet again the seconds fall away, never to be seen again. Another day comes and goes, still I have accomplished nothing. Most days it seems like a chore to even wake up, I am consistently exhausted, drained. I am searching for inspiration but have found nothing yet. I desire more, but there is no driving force behind it. I get caught in my imagination, my mind forming versions of how my day would be if my son was here. This grief is truly a whirlwind, tossing you from one place to another. I never truly know what I will feel in a day or how it will affect me or those around me. I try not to repeat everything over so much because my struggles get old to everyone else. They get tired of me saying it all to them, I can tell. I feel like people expect me to be over this or moving on somewhat, but how can I? I am relearning how to live, rediscovering who I am. My entire personality has been altered that I don't even recognize myself all the time. I try to find humor where others do, it all seems childish. I try to understand the struggles my friends face but they just seem minor or petty. I feel like an outsider. I don't fit in very well anymore. I can't seem to function in this world as it stands right now. How do I move forward when the world doesn't seem appealing anymore?

Blessed

Gabriel was a blessing, today I know he was put in my life for a reason. I was chosen to carry a beautiful soul inside of me, even if his life was only 38 weeks long. I got to experience the miracle of life, the amazing emotions that come with knowing you've created someone so precious and wonderful. I was blessed enough to experience pregnancy, something that some women may never experience. I was given a greater purpose, I became a mother. Even though he couldn't stay here with me, I was given nine months of memories to cherish for the rest of my life. I was still able to experience birth, as heartbreaking as it was I got to bring my son into the world. I fought to bring him into this world as much as my body would physically let me. I still got to gaze at his beautiful face, I was able to count his tiny fingers and toes. I was able to hold him to my chest and stroke his hands. I could sing him to sleep, undress him even and admire the baby I grew inside of me. I am blessed with the moments I could have with my son, a strong boy who wasn't ready to enjoy life on earth. I am forever changed by my little one, and though my grief may be great at times it is only part of the healing. There is a greater purpose, a deeper meaning behind this loss and he gave me a strength I never knew existed. My son, I love you! Thank you for blessing my life with your beautiful innocence.

Darkness

I am insane with grief right now, all I wish is to go and be with my Gabriel. I want to go, I want to take away this pain, escape from my body. I want to know what is beyond the last beat of a heart. Is there heaven or nothingness? Are there trumpets or silence? Will I hold my baby again or hold my hands for the rest of eternity in a coffin? It is hell on earth when you bury your child, it is a pain so deep there are no words to express the ache in your chest with every breath you take. I am angry, loathing this life and its cruelty and unfairness. Imagine for a moment the life and dreams you have suddenly being swept away like dust under the rug. My life seems to matter to me, my struggle is mine to bear. I can surround myself with help, but truly I am alone in this journey, I am the one who chided whether to come to terms with this or to let it eat me alive. I realize the only reason I get out of bed sometimes is to appear strong, to avoid the questions of what's wrong, to avoid being pushed into getting out of bed. I'm tired of people asking me what is wrong. Pretty much anything I'm feeling right now can be accredited to the fact that my son is dead. It kills me to know that I was carrying around my deceased infant for a couple days before I gave birth, to know that he was already decomposing inside of me. The womb that he once thrived with life in was where he began to fall apart too. How does it get any better after all of this? How will i ever find hope when I miss him with every fiber of myself? My flesh and blood, my beautiful son is gone....my own little family is ripped apart, seperated by death. How will I ever recover?

Birthday Party

Today was a family friends birthday party, my day for the most part before hand had been good. I was angry for a portion of the afternoon, I even fought with my husband over stupid little things. My blood literally felt like it was boiling, I was so frustrated all I wanted to do was cry. I was angry that my little one had passed, that no matter how much I tried there was nothing I could do to bring him back. Eventually I calmed down and we went to a birthday party where another family friend had brought her children, her youngest was born a few months before Gabriel. At first I wanted to cry, my plan was to avoid her and the baby to keep from crying and to keep the pain from getting to me. I was polite though, kept my distance a little but an urge came over me and I had the longing to hold that beautiful little boy. Instead of my heart sinking my heart was full of love and care when he was placed in my arms. I didn't want to let go of him, something inside me felt fulfilled, I felt wanted in a way. Another family friend showed up later after I had given the baby back to his mother. This woman was 5 months pregnant and I broke down twice within ten minutes, my eyes filling with tears that threatened to spill over. I felt trapped, the ache in my heart was heavy again and inside I was angry. I had to leave. After my husband had played around with a joke that was out of line with my mood we ended up leaving for a while. I cried the entire way to the cemetery, I needed to be near my baby. We arrived and found the balloon his great grandparents had bought him still intact. I fell to my knees and laid next to his grave, the tears falling harder and faster. I kept begging him to come home, to come be with his mommy. I pleaded with God to give me another chance with Gabriel, I wanted to change every wrong thing I did during the pregnancy. My heart was bleeding out, my tears falling into the grass. I felt depleted when I was finished, my husbands arms wrapped tightly around me. We went back to the party, the pregnant woman had left but the sweet baby was still there. I held him again, kissing his head and cheeks. I wanted to feel him fall asleep on my chest, I wanted to spend hours with him just playing with him and feeling how a mother should, doing things you do with a baby. Now I am relieved, I'm home and I don't hurt. I feel okay.

Random Thoughts Of An Evening

I miss him so much today. I found myself constantly day dreaming about what it would be like if he was here. It amazes me how fast life changes, how quick the turns in our paths shift. I know I can't change this, I couldn't save him from this fate but the amount of guilt I feel at times is unbearable, I feel like I deserved to die in that labor. I didn't take care of myself like I should have, I knew I was high risk with my diabetes but I guess I was naive. I was a stupid child that had no idea what being high risk truly meant. I don't know if it is really my fault as to why he passed...I have no idea and the unanswered questions nibble at my mind. At some point I have to accept this, I just don't know how. I watch my friends update their statuses and share pictures of their children...I find myself jealous, sometimes even crying because all I have is a photo album and nine months worth of memories. I know i should be thankful, I know i should be greatful when some women only dream of being pregnant but I feel cheated, I feel robbed of a lifetime of memories. I used to ask why me, and sometimes I still do but why not me? What makes me more special than other women who have lost children? Nothing. If there is one thing I wish people realized is that this loss, this incredible loss, can happen to anyone. No one should ever hold themselves higher than another pregnant woman because there is no discrimination between who may or who may not lose their baby.

Grief

Grief is an inconvenience, it does not keep business hours, nor schedule you in for certain hours. It side swipes you at times, throws a curve ball in when you are least expecting it. Grief is a necessity. It's not a disorder. It doesn't come with set rules, only guidelines and even so, everyone has a separate journey. Grief is an ingredient to healing, and like a fresh wound the healing process can't be rushed. We can how ever, choose how we heal. We can take care of our healing process, addressing our wounds with loving care. We can join support groups, write, sing, see a psychiatrist...there are many positive ways to grieve, numerous outlets to heal in healthy ways. We can become "infected" though as well, wallowing away the days in pain and heartbreak, failing to participate in any activity other than ones that make us hurt. To a point it is okay to be depressed, it is okay to forget what ever plans we made for the day and just take it easy. It is okay to cry, okay to laugh, okay to scream at the top of your lungs even. What we don't want is to spend the rest of our lives questioning what could have been. No one should rush you in your grieving process, there are different time lines and everyone heals differently, in ways that are right for them. You will have your days where you sit and cry, from what I have heard, those will get easier. You will have days that all you do is laugh and enjoy life, enjoying all things, these are perfectly fine. We are doing our loved ones any favors by constantly crying over their death, they would want you to be happy. They would want to hear the laughter they loved, see the smile they adored. It can be hard to remember that. Right now I am on such a roller coaster at times! One minute I am laughing with my husband and the next I am bawling into his shoulder about how things should have been. I am surprised at how long it is taking me to get over the denial, I think I finally am for the most part. I have my times where I am angry, I scream into my pillow or beat my fists into the mattress, sometimes I even end up taking it out on those who have done nothing wrong. I am embarrassed to admit that but it's true. The other day I was in shock that Gabriel is truly gone, that's all I kept saying over and over again,"He's really gone." I have moments where I know beyond a doubt he is in my heart, he is in heaven and safe from the world and all it's pain. Grief is such a journey, such a winding road. By the end of it though, I know I will be stronger. I will have a strength that I never thought possible.

Graduation

Today I am a proud sister, my beautiful Samantha has graduated high school!! It was a nice ceremony and of course all the seniors threw their caps in the air at the end. For the most part I sat there, watching one woman in particular. She was holding a little baby girl in her arms, bouncing her slightly. The little one was turning her head with curiosity, enthralled with the sea of faces in the bleachers. I kept wondering, what would it be like if Gabriel was here? Would he be fussy during all the inconvenient moments? Would he be turning his head with big wide eyes, caught up in the new noises and sounds? How different would my life be? I chased away the thoughts, focusing on my sister, not wanting to "steal the spotlight". I made it, for the most part. We all met up outside to get a few pictures, her smile was full of pride. I was so happy for her. I turned away though, looking into my mothers eyes as the tears started to fall. "Why are you crying baby girl?" "I realized Gabriel will never experience this." She looked at me with loving care,"It's okay baby girl, the next baby will." Even though she meant it as a comfort and with all the love in the world, my heart broke. Why does everyone keep counting on me having the experiences with the "next baby"? Who's to say there will be any other baby? I know eventually I might have the chance to experience motherhood in all of its beauty but for now it kills me to know of all the things Gabriel will miss. It isn't so much about me not experiencing the milestones with a child but the pain of knowing I won't experience it with my first born. It will always be bitter sweet to watch my future children reach milestones that Gabe won't, that's just the way it is.

A Party In The Park

Today was my sisters graduation party. Since the weather was beautiful we had it at a local park with family and friends, of course some people had younger children, my stepmom included. I was okay for the most part, distracting myself with idle conversations. My mother was there to distract me too, whenever I am with my sisters and her our time is always full of laughter. Eventually it caught up to me though. I would watch the kids running around on the jungle gym and my heart would ache....my Gabriel would never do this. I would watch them laugh or argue a little, caught up in their own games and rules, my Gabriel would never do this either. I would watch my husband pushing one of the little girls on the swing, my Gabriel would never experience it. I felt overwhelmed, surrounded, stuck in a place full of things I would never experience with Gabriel. I finally walked away from it all for a little while, looking into the sky. I watched clouds rolling in, gray, big, overpowering. In the midst of it all, there was a crack between two clouds that had pushed together. Sunshine was making it glow golden. There was a hole in the clouds, a pastel blue so beautiful I had only ever seen it in paintings. It wasn't anything like the sky blue that was fighting against the storm clouds. It looked like there were clouds in the hole too, not white and fluffy or gray but a soft cream color. A beam of sunlight fell from the hole, bright and breath taking. To me it felt like I was peering into another world. The tears started to fall and I remembered dreaming where I had asked if heaven was real. The answer had been yes, a strong yes that makes you want to believe. I felt like I was looking into heaven, a peaceful beautiful place waiting for me, a place where Gabriel is safe and loved. I am always looking for signs, a reason to believe in what everyone else does so effortlessly. I believe it was a sign.

A Family Dinner

Tonight we are having a fancy family dinner to celebrate my grandmothers birthday. They flew in this week for my sisters graduation and my uncle flew in with his girlfriend too. I can't stop thinking about the day my parents had asked me to put this dinner in my calendar. I was still very pregnant and we were in the Sams Club my husband works at, I was waiting for him to get off work like usual. I couldn't wait to dress up my handsome little boy in an adorable outfit to celebrate his great grandma's birthday. I couldn't wait to be showing off my beautiful family too, the gorgeous little one that my husband and I created. Now I sit here waiting to get ready. I have a beautiful dress and my husband agreed to even dress up for this occasion, which can be a miracle in itself. My little brother is sitting next to me...all I keep thinking is that this isn't right. I should be at home with the baby, bathing him and getting his adorable outfit on. I know there are going to be plenty of toasts about family and I feel out of place. Even though I am with my family I finally had my own little family to show off. How can I toast to family when my family feels very torn apart, very separated? I feel a dull ache in my heart, my baby isn't here to celebrate with us and it just breaks my heart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion, full of laughter and good spirits, celebrating life and all of the blessings we have...but how can I celebrate when my sons life was blown out as quick as a flame of a candle? It feels wrong because we are missing someone, a very big important someone that should be here but isn't. I can only hope it won't be as bad as I am thinking...maybe he will be with me in spirit and everything will fall into place.

Curious

I woke up this morning thinking it was March 28th, believing I was pregnant and that we were getting ready to find out our baby was okay. I woke believing I still was full and when my hand ran down my tummy I realized it no longer was a rounded bump. My husband held me as I cried, showing me pictures on my phone to help me understand where I was, what day it was, what was going on. I cried harder, of course, as the reality sank in. It started off as a terrible day, I was full of so much anger and depression it hurt. When we went out to the cemetery though I felt peaceful again. A strong gust of wind greeted me and in my heart I knew it was Gabriel rushing into my arms to say hello. Later I cried again, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss, of defeat. I had spent months planning for this beautiful boy. Countless hours I spent day dreaming about our future, his smile and the little boy he would soon be. I would wonder who he would look like, what would it be like when I heard him cry for the very first time. I am angry because I don't know why this happened to me, why does it happen at all? Why are parents forced to bury their children so young, or at all? I realize though, even in this darkness, that Gabriel was put in my life for a reason. I know by the end of this initial grief, at the end of all these first milestones I will forever be a stronger person. I will be confident...how could I not after all of this? How could I not believe in myself and know that I have the strength to move mountains? Hopefully, through this experience, I can stop living for an unpredictable future and start living in the moment. Maybe I will learn to cherish life and the beautiful moments and memories being formed around me. I am curious to see what this experience will teach me. How will I be changed? What will I learn about myself? I am intrigued by this path in my life.

The Pudding Cup

I am watching my husband eat a chocolate pudding cup and suddenly I am almost in tears and angry. "Why are you eating that pudding cup?" "Because I wanted pudding..." He looks at me, seeming a little confused. "We bought those pudding cups when Gabriel was still alive..." "We bought pizza too and we don't have those pizza boxes anymore." "That's not the point." He leaves the room, continuing to scoop pudding out and devour it like it's no big deal.
At first I am sitting here, confused at my own reactions over something so small and irrelevant, did I really just almost cry over a pudding cup of all things? I contemplate it for a second, thinking there has to be a reason I am doing it. I think about my behavior lately, what have I been doing? I realize that I am trying to avoid change. Yes. A pudding cup has given me an insight into myself. Within a couple weeks of Gabriel passing we got everything together (his crib, changing table, stroller and car seat) and spent a portion of an afternoon returning it all. I thought if I had gotten rid of it sooner, the better it would be for me in the long run. I spent the next week or so sleeping at my mothers house because I couldn't stand to look at the empty corner of my bedroom. When I did finally come home I still was reduced to tears in the middle of the night and found myself curled into a ball crying in the corner. Since then, I haven't been able to touch anything else in the room. Less than a week before Gabriel's passing my husband had taken christmas lights and hung them on a wall in our room, this way we didn't have to turn on a bright light at night when taking care of Gabriel. They still sit there, hung with such loving care and I don't have the heart or energy to even think about taking them down. In the corner where the crib was lays a pile of bedding we had used. I remember getting it all set up, organizing it so perfectly. I can't even imagine what it was like for my husband who had spent endless hours piecing together the baby furniture, only to take it apart a couple weeks later. I notice I am terrified to clean my room, to move things from where they had been when my baby was still here. My only question is why? Why have I formed such an emotional attachment to petty things? I have a memory box with hand prints, foot prints, pictures...and I am still finding a need to cling on to every little thing. Did I get rid of the crib too soon? Should I have held on to the big things more closely and waited to return them? So many questions still unanswered. I'm thinking I need to pull it together and really clean it up. Move some furniture around even to make it not feel the same, i just don't know if I have the heart to do it yet.

Far Away

It boils inside of me, turning my blood into fire. A pain shoots straight into my heart, like a guided missile from the abyss inside my soul. I can't scream out, I can''t cry out...there are people around me. I bite it back, biting my tongue so hard I'm surprised I don't taste blood. It hurts to hold it in, hurts bad enough that hot tears fall from my eyes. I am tired, tired of waking up to this reality, tired of waking up in a future I didn't plan for. I'm so exhausted, I haven't rested in days...weeks. My mind keeps going over the details, spinning round and round. The unanswered questions gnaw at my mind, starving, ravaging for the slightest detail that can put everything into perspective. Why did this happen to me? What could I have done to change this? Where did I fail? My body was designed for this, destined to bring life into this world. I was supposed to bring forth dreams and hopes, the first grandchild. Instead I gave birth to a baby that will never open his eyes, he will never cry, never wake from his sleep. How did this happen to me? Since he died in me, in my body that has given him everything he needed to thrive...would it not be my failure if his death was inside of me too? Would it not be my fault that he was dead upon arrival? I'm angry, I am seething, my entire being is aching. My purpose, my plans of motherhood, have been shattered. The pieces thrown around like shreds of paper, scattering themselves. I am struggling. I am searching for something, searching for the right words, begging for a sign of hope. I don't want them to see my hurting, I don't want my family to see me in this pain. I'm trying to bury it, trying to force it away and tuck it inside but why? I'm trying not to burn bridges, I'm trying not to explode with anger but they don't want to see me like that. They want to touch me, they want to hug me and tell me not to cry. They want me to be okay and they tell me I'm alright but I'm not. I am far from alright, far from here.

The Dark Line

I close my eyes as the warm water dances across my skin. I remember back to the mornings I would wake up early and waddle my way into the shower. I would stand in front of the mirror undressed, admiring the beautiful roundness of my tummy. My eyes were full of hopes and dreams, excitement of the future mother I was going to be. I felt beautiful, glowing, alive. I remember the water caressing my tummy as you would start to move and wake from your slumber. Your tiny feet buried in my ribs as you stretched out. I would run my hands over your feet, amazed at how you would squirm and roll away from the contact. Sometimes you would pull back enough just to give me a good kick in the side. I would trace the dark line that had formed from the top of my belly to the bottom of it, concerned it would never fade. When Daddy would join us we would laugh and joke around about you, he was so excited to become a father. He would put soap on his hands and rub it all over my tummy until it was nice and sudsy, he would say,"I'm cleaning the baby!" I would just giggle and smile at him. I remember when he would hold me, my back pressed into his bare chest as the water weaved it's way over our bodies. He would hold onto my tummy, talking about how he couldn't wait to meet you. The morning we found out our shower wasn't as pleasant. We were nervous, scared of what would happen at our appointment. Daddy pressed his forehead to mine, looking down at my belly. He placed his hand on my skin, caressing you softly as if begging you to wake up.
Now I watch the water, I watch it fall over my empty tummy. I feel hollow inside, no longer full. Sometimes I catch myself caressing where your feet used to wedge themselves and I am filled with an ache. It hurts because I realize I will never feel you move like that again. I cry sometimes when I shower alone, wishing I could go back to those mornings. Tell you again how much in love I am with you. I wish I would have sang more on those mornings, maybe lost track of time for a little longer. This overwhelming sense of emptiness now fills the spaces your tiny body once did. I still trace the dark line but I cry as I do it, watching it fade more and more everyday. Sometimes I beg God to let it stay a little longer, I beg him because I don't want to lose any piece of you. I want to remember you really happened, I want to know that I am not going crazy because sometimes I wonder if I made you up. This pain is so great and deep I wonder if any of it truly ever existed. I wish you were here so I could run the warm water over your soft skin, so I could take care of the beautiful boy you are, my beautiful son that I grew...I miss you...

Numb

I believe that today I am numb. The world is still turning, lives are going on all around me but I feel none of it. I was shopping at Walmart and saw tons of women pushing baby strollers, of course I couldn't resist a peek. Beautiful babies, their tiny faces full of life. Some sleeping, others gazing around in amazement. I realize now why I shop at night instead, there aren't as many babies out. I don't feel anything though, there is no throbbing in my chest, there are no tears starting to form in my eyes. Positive signs, one would think, but there is no emotion at all. Just a wide emptiness inside of me that seems to swallow up my existence. My mind can be cruel to me. Some days I seem to think he is still at the hospital, maybe he is just sick and I'll be able to take him home soon. Out of no where I imagine that he is simply in the back seat of the car sleeping in his car seat. When I am out on a date or hanging out, I am convinced he is at home with my family. When reality hits, it leaves me breathless. I want to scream, I want to destroy everything in sight...I don't know how many times I've ripped out chunks of my own hair recently. But going into the store, being numb from the inside out...it's almost a new experience. An unexpected form a relief. I am at home, calm, taking it on breath at a time. Right now there is no screaming, there is no pounding my fists into the wall, there isn't any gasping for air. In this moment I know he is gone, he isn't here because the house is so quiet and still. I don't feel anything other than relief, I am relieved that right now I am able to breathe, I am able to function and I am not spinning out of control. Being numb is beautiful.

Unattached

I am finding an issue within myself that I am hoping is only a coping mechanism. I have lost the most precious person in my life, I have never experienced a loss so profound and deep. I have considered myself extremely lucky since I haven't lost many people in my family but now I am devastated. My first born is gone, the dreams I had, the plans I had made have all been swept away. I feel like my future was buried with him, truly it was. With this pain comes new experiences, uncharted mysteries about myself that leave me struggling to find who I am. It's hard for me to stay close to anyone. I find myself wanting to  be distant from my family, I am trying to be unattached because I never want to feel this amount of pain in my life again. In my heart I know I can't truly separate myself from them but I am becoming more distant. I get frustrated over the little things, events that I should enjoy only seem like a tedious chore. Other peoples problems seem tiny in comparison to what I am dealing with. Constantly I am reminding myself that these events, these complaints actually mean something to someone and to them, they are a big deal. In so many ways I have changed. I look in the mirror and I see a hardness behind my eyes, I've witnessed tragedy. My mother tells me I no longer have the innocent look in my face, I find this true, more true than I want it to be. I cling to Gary, I don't seem to want to be around anyone but him. They just don't understand me like he does. They don't get it...how could they? I force myself not to blame them when they don't understand my emotions. My mind is running a thousand miles per minute, I make up fights in my mind that will never happen, I prepare myself for words that will never be spoken. Some nights I cry just because I hate not knowing who I am, I hate feeling so vulnerable on the inside. I despise the amount of strength I carry inside me, the wall I keep up out of the fear of being hurt even more. I'm confused at times, questioning life and all of its twists and turns. I have so many questions. I am haunted by myself, haunted by the memories of a future that was full of life. I am standing on uneven ground, fearing the start of every new day, waiting for something tragic to happen. I am struggling to accept that Gabriel is gone, I am still in denial and over a thousand times I wonder how this happened? Where did he go? At the end of the day it seems like the only time I can relax is in Gary's arms, the questions aren't as cruel and I can finally let my tears fall. I realize I am blessed to not be in this alone, I am blessed with the consistent presence of a man that is so strong.

Mothers Day Pictures

Gabriel & Mommy

 Happy Mothers Day!

 

 

Mothers Day

45 days. I last held you in my arms 45 days ago. Today is a day to be honoring mothers but I don't feel like a mother, how can I when there is no child here to hold in my arms? I can't believe I am celebrating my first mothers day when there are so many firsts I have missed with you...your first smile, your first laugh, your first beautiful cries of life. My heart aches, I am filled with a desire to be with you and I can't. I want to take care of you! Every day has been torture, I wake up wishing it is all just a dream, hoping I am stuck in a horrible nightmare that I will soon wake from. I never do. Right now I feel numb, I'm exhausted because I didn't sleep well and I feel like I'm balancing on the edge. Where did you go my beautiful boy? Why did you have to leave me here alone? I miss you so bad my heart aches, I want to cry but the tears won't fall. I wish so badly I was waking up to your beautiful face, waking up and counting the blessings God has given me. I am sitting in a quiet house instead, listening to the birds outside and wanting to be far away from here. I don't want to see the happy families, I don't want to see the facebook posts about how amazing everyone's mother is and how thankful they are for their children. I don't want to see the pictures of beautiful flowers or gifts women are being showered with today. It's going to be a hard day, I don't know how I am going to make it through without you here. The last 45 days seems like nothing compared to the immense pain I have throbbing in my heart today.