Thinking of you

I've had quite a few people ask me if it is hard to share what I have posted on this blog taking that it is all very personal. It is hard, everything about him being gone is hard and though it is a very personal experience, I find some type of comfort in talking about him. I wish more than anything that I did not know what this type of pain feels like, but I do. Being around people is difficult for me, even something as simple as running to a gas station. Any time I go to a public place I have to sit there and talk myself into actually going inside. As crazy as it sounds I feel like I have a big sign on my forehead that screams "I am not well, I just lost my son." Obviously there is no big arrow over my head pointing this out to people, but when you lose something as precious as a child, it leaves a wound so unimaginably large that it is hard to think people can't see how much you are hurting, that they can't see the gaping hole of all your crushed hopes and dreams. When I was pregnant with Boston, and in the 68 days I was so blessed to have with him, I imagined him growing up to be so wonderful. Someone intelligent and loving and life changing. So what do you do when your child doesn't get to grow up? When they don't get to share the infectious love and laughter you know they would have brought the world? You talk about them. You tell people how special they are, how much happiness they brought you, and how much they changed your life. I will not let my sons death be in vain, and I will not let memories of him escape this earth the way that he physically did. Although he is not by my side he will forever influence how I live my life.

Boston would have been 3 months old today. It is hard not to dwell on all the things I am missing out on without him here, but for right now I am going to talk about all of the things I was lucky enough to experience because of him. I got to spend 38 whole weeks of my life excited and anxious for the little being growing inside of me. I got to see his adorable face on ultrasounds and fall in love with him before even meeting him, and then finally after a couple of days of on and off contractions, my water broke around 6 PM exactly 2 weeks before his due date. He made his way into this world just short of 5 hours later at 10:48 pm on January 9th, 2015 and I fell in love with him all over again. The baby that I dreamt of constantly for those 9 months, and whose little face I saw on those ultrasounds was finally right there in my arms. A perfect 7 lb 4.9 oz healthy little boy. He really was perfect. When the nurse who helped deliver him was moving us to our room in the maternity ward, she held him up so the people at the front desk could see him and said "Look at how cute this baby is!" He also slept far better than I did the first night he was born and pretty much the entire next day. I had the nurses keep him in the nursery the second night we were in the hospital so I could catch up on sleep, and when I asked her how he did while being there, she told me he was by far the most content and easy baby to care for in the nursery. After being discharged from the hospital and arriving home he was only truly awake and alert for about 6 hours the whole first week of his life. He would wake up to eat and fall right back asleep. The only time he ever truly cried was when he was born. Bosty was a whiner. When he was hungry he would whine, but that was all. It was a ridiculous whine too, and many of the people that witnessed it would say "Really? That's all you got?" He didn't cry during the night either. I was quite worried at first being a single mom with a toddler and brand new baby, but he made it easy. He was so content. During his first couple weeks he did not appreciate baths, but grew to tolerate them and when I would lay him in the little sling part of his bathtub he would cross his arms and scrunch up his face and just sit there. He would also let out a weird little scream when I would take his bottle out of his mouth to burp him as if he was trying to yell at me to give it back. He loved to eat. Constantly. I am so thankful the majority of his life was spent in my arms. Every time my mom would come home from work she would ask "Do you ever put him down?" Nope. It was very rare to find him any where but in my lap. On the rare occasions he was set in his swing, I would walk back out into the living room to find him smiling and talking to himself. It melted my heart. He had just started turning into quite the talker. I would sit up in bed with him for hours saying whatever ridiculous things I could come up with to hear his beautiful little voice and see his silly crooked smile. I will think of that wonderful smile to get through today, and the simple fact that he knew nothing, and gave nothing, but pure love.


Thank you to this sweet 3 month old angel for giving me the best 68 days I've ever had.