Six Months

I've started to find the past week or so more difficult...just when I thought life was moving forward, and I was feeling good about things, I revert back to this place of despair.  Where even the littlest things can make me cry.  Where every sound, smell, and feeling can remind me of even just one short moment of my boys' lives.

Last Sunday was six months since their birth.  It was a hard day.  I was lucky to spend it with another loss momma friend and her two beautiful rainbows.  It definitely helped, but throughout the day, I still found myself dazing out and having memories of that day.  The day where my whole world changed.  Where I don't remember much except how much pain I was in and how badly I wanted my babies to stay safe.  Where I was open on an operating table praying all the prayers I could think of that my babies would be okay.

Six months is how long I carried my boys.  It's how long I got to spend with them.  But strangely, six months since they were born feels like a lifetime.  That six months I carried them, I couldn't wait to hold them.  Now I look back and I wish I hadn't wished it away so fast.  Every moment of my pregnancy was one more moment I got to hold them close and keep them safe.

I still feel like they were ripped from me.  I still wish I could have carried them longer.  I wish more than anything that I could have kept them safe.  I will always wish that.  Always.

Wednesday was six months since I last held my Andrew.  Six months without him.  Six months since the first hardest day of my life.  Six months since I could smell him, feel him, tell him I loved him...  Six months since I had to say goodbye.  It breaks my heart that the first time he felt me really loving him was after his heart had stopped beating.  It breaks my heart that I didn't get more time with my beautiful baby boy.  It breaks my heart that every time I think of that night, I see the doctors working on him and remember the tears...remember myself screaming and crying for my baby.  I knew.  I knew he was gone.  I'm thankful to the doctors and nurses who did everything they could to save him, but I knew it was too late.  I wanted to hold my son so badly and all I could wish for is that they would let me.

At the end of the month, we will hit six months since I held Samuel and said goodbye.  I expect that day to be just as difficult.  I expect that I will remember that day just as I remembered Andrew's day...with reflection and tears...love for my son...and hope for a future with their sibling(s).

I just have to keep telling myself that so much can change in six months.  Six more months and their birthday will be here.  I look forward to it in the hopes that many happy memories will become a part of my life between now and then.  That my grief journey will continue to take me to a better place in my life and make me a better person.  I continue to hope for a future filled with memories and love...and hopefully a child or children.