Damaged goods

I am so sick of this. Sick of being heart broken, sick of being worried, sick of living without my baby, sick of wondering which little flecks of dust in the urn that holds my son were his eyes, his heart, his nose, his hair...

The counselor I saw for a few months after Boston passed told me that around the 6 month mark of a loved ones death is when it gets truly hard, and is also unfortunately around the time when even the closet people to you seem to scatter back into their own lives and are far from being there when you need it. I had no clue how right she was at the time. I feel like I am constantly screaming "Please help me!" but not a single sound comes out. I am damaged, and that is far from a good feeling.

Damaged as in I am a broken soul, damaged as in nothing is easy, damaged as in how could anyone ever love me knowing the surplus of how broken I already am. I am the broken lamp in the corner who's plug in doesn't work, the one that no one wants to deal with. Why would they? I don't even work. There is no light here...

I love my son. So much so that I'm not even sure how I made it to 22 without him. Which makes living the next however many years a "journey" I am very reluctant to take, but I really have no choice. Quite a few people have said to me "Oh you're so young. You'll figure it out." All I can think in my head the whole time is that yes, I am young. Which to me only means having to live even longer without my baby. 

I don't want to be the woman who can hardly leave her home because of the anxiety that now haunts me. I don't want to be the woman who's heart breaks anytime someone asks me how many children I have. I don't want to be the woman that's hard to love. I don't want to be the woman who's baby died, but I am. 

"One day you will see me again

Once more within your sight

I'll be right there to walk you in

I'm waiting in the light"

Dreams

Bosty, 

I keep finding myself with the urge to put your things back together, to go get your car seat, to start all over. Can't we just start all over? Oh, what I would do to go back to that day and never leave your side. It has been troubling me in ways I can't explain, to extents I can't explain, that I truly believe you would be here had I not gone back to work. I also keep finding myself dreaming of just how different life would be. I love to think of it actually. I can't help but smile when I think of how unbelievably adorable you would be, but I also can't help but cry at the terrible reality that dreaming of you will never be anything more than that, just an impossible dream. "Anything is possible" no longer applies to me, because I really do not ever get to have you. 

A few weeks ago I actually had a dream about you. I had gotten a call from a random lady saying my son was in an accident and that I needed to come get him. I frantically drove to this place which was actually your grandmas old house thinking that I would be picking up your brother because you were already gone, but when I got there it was you. Alive and well in some lady's arms waiting for me to take you home. It was wonderful to finally dream of you alive, but the pain of waking up to you still being gone is heart shattering. I have now been without you for just over 6 months. I miss you with everything in me. 

Even though I cannot see you, I pray you are right here and I pray you don't feel the sadness that I do in being worlds apart, but that you love me enough to be by my side where I need you. I really do need you, Boston.


All my love,
Mommy

8 months old

Boston Daniel, 

It has been 8 whole months since you took your first breath. 8 months! It's very hard for me to think about that because I know that you would be so much different now if you were still here. Babies change so much in that amount of time. You would be sitting up, laughing, crawling, maybe even walking. Your big brother was around this age when he started saying "momomama." I wish to extents I can't explain that I could hear you say the same thing. I see people who had their babies around the same time as I had you, and even months after, and now those babies have passed you in age while you stay forever frozen in time as 2 months old...

You cross my mind in a million ways every single day. More than anything I am grateful for the moments I feel you. 

When I see the sun shine a certain way,  when your brother hugs me a little tighter than usual, when baby ryker smiles at me like he's doing it for you, for just a moment it doesn't feel like my heart is breaking. Thank you for those moments my fat little love, they are how I make it through. 

I had a thought the other day when trying to find the right words to say to Zoey's mom since September 7th marked 4 months since she joined you. I'm not sure how it hasn't truly crossed my mind yet but I realized that even though each day gets harder in the sense that all I want is to have you here, each day also brings me closer to the one where I finally get to be with you again.

Saying that I'm just waiting to die is a scary way to put it especially since I'm only 23, but in ways it's true. I hate that death is the only way that I can get to you. I will never leave your brother before "my time", but when it comes I will welcome it with open arms because behind the tragedy that death is, you will be waiting and I will finally be able to breathe again. 

I will never stop fighting to let the world know how much I adore you. I'd go to war for you, Bosty, and I hope you're smiling in Heaven because here on earth I'm doing everything I can think of to make that happen. I pray the day I get there that you're even half as proud of me as I am of you. I love you, forever. Truly forever. 

"For the rest of my life, I will search for moments full of you." 

Ugly isn't easy.

Have you ever heard the saying "It isn't easy being beautiful" 

I have. And I kind of want to kick whoever said that. I'd give anything to have even an ounce of the beauty that use to be an every day part of my life. 

 My life has turned into one big pitiful painting with ugly written all over it. I just can't seem to get out of this mess filled with grief, sadness, and anxiety. There is truly no glamour in grieving. I never leave my house. On the rare occasions that I do, anxiety cripples me into someone who is absolutely no fun to be around. I anxiously await the moment someone asks me one of the many terrifying questions that force me to say what I wish so badly wasn't true.."my son died." Which then brings on the awkward dilemma of me trying to comfort the person who asked because they are horrified by what just came out of my mouth. Trust me, ugly isn't easy.

I will never accept Boston's death, especially now that I have a long list of reasons to believe the story I was told as to how he died is far from the truth. It makes me sick to my stomach. All day every day I wonder and worry and dream of how different my life would be had I not trusted such a pitiful excuse for a daycare provider with my children. I will not ever be able to comprehend how someone can be terrible enough to treat children's lives like they're worth nothing. Children are the future. They are where you find hope and the will to look for happiness in each day. They are why you believe in the good things coming. 

So please, forgive me for struggling to see the way that I use to. After watching my future, my hope, and such a wonderfully large part of my heart, my beautiful baby boy, Boston, drift away never to take a single breath again, I am left blinded. Telling me to appreciate what I can still see is honestly like telling someone who recently lost their eye sight forever that they are being ungrateful for not jumping up and down because they still have some of their other senses, like smell or touch. 

I'm grateful for everything I still get to watch my amazing first son do, but it does not make knowing that I will never see my second son do the same any less painful. Everywhere I look, everything I do, everything I say, I should be saying to two beautiful faces, but there is only one looking back at me. That pain is a reality that is now stuck with me every single moment, every single day, for the rest of my life. I will not apologize for grieving. My son was real, I gave birth to him, I held him, I loved him, and I gave him my all, and the all that I so willingly gave was supposed to be a life time deal. When I found out I was pregnant and brought my sweet little boy into this world I signed up for a forever with my son, or what I thought was a forever. I will wish endlessly each day I'm on this earth that I never had to know this type of pain and I will struggle attempting to calm the bitterness that arises in my heart. Consider yourself lucky if you don't know how it feels to literally feel your heart break, and feel those pieces float away in each new dawn.

It is excruciating, and if you don't know that pain please don't tell me how to handle it. I am clawing my way through hell on earth. Do not judge me. Help me, and if you cannot do that then please step aside instead of blocking the people who are willing. 

To the sweetest boy I've ever known.. 

I can see the moon but I can't see you. It makes my heart break knowing you're really that far away. No matter the miles, the months, or the years that separate us, I will love you as much as I would if you were here. My love for you is timeless, Bosty. If I ever keep a promise in my life, that will be the one. 

I love you.