My little fatboy, 

I am missing you like always of course. My heart has been an overwhelming combination of pure joy and lingering pain lately. I've read more than once that when you lose a child you feel everything from a deeper place, and it couldn't be more true. 

There are no words accurate enough to describe how happy, blessed, and all around thankful I am that in 19 days or less your baby brother will be making his way into this world. He is truly the rainbow after the storm, but there are also no words accurate enough to describe the ache I feel in my heart for you, or how different having lost you has made this pregnancy for me. In all the joy, there is a shadow that never leaves. 

Every time I am asked if I have any other children I say "Yes, two boys."

I am then usually asked what your brother is going to be and reply "Another boy."

Which usually receives a response of "Oh my! 3 boys at home, you're going to be busy!" 

I smile and nod while crossing my fingers that I won't be asked how old, because that question means having to explain that I won't  actually know what it's like to have 3 boys at home, because my 2nd son is in heaven. 

It's a simple question but every time I walk away after answering it I'm either teary eyed or at the least trapped in thoughts about just how different life would be if you were just here.

Sometimes it's hard to escape the anger that shadow makes me feel because it's a constant reminder that even though when I feel joy now it's much more profound, I am never able to experience it without fear of the true raw pain that your death made me realize exists in this life. 

Living with that fear has been one of the most difficult things for me. I despise the feeling. I have come a long way when it comes to my anxiety, but it's still an every day thing for me. I spend an unfortunate amount of time trying to get my feelings to correlate with what I know in my head. Anxiety is a certain type of torture not easily explained or dealt with. I have been pretty on edge lately and I'm praying I find effective ways to cope when your brother arrives so that I don't let my worries over shadow the precious moments of watching him grow. 

I have also been struggling with the fact that with weather and him arriving soon it's not likely I will make it to the cemetery every day.  There has been two times since you were buried that I didn't make it to see you. The first was because I did not realize they had switched to winter hours and close at 4:30 instead of 8. The other was the first day it snowed and the parking lot at my work was getting plowed and I wasn't able to leave on my break like I always do. 

They were awful days filled with a lot of tears. It was very hard to adjust to you being at the cemetery in general, but I was not at all prepared for how it would feel to drive up to closed gates. It was honestly one of the worst feelings ever having to turn around realizing that I am not even granted the small solace of being able to go to tell you I love you whenever I want. It's such an important part of my day and I'm not sure what I'm going to do when that routine changes. I think it is such a huge thing for me because for so long I kept your ashes with me and found comfort in feeing like I was protecting you. You were still right there with me. Since having you buried I eventually found comfort in having a little part of my day dedicated just to you. Going to tell you I love you every day is the one thing I have left that I can do that feels like actively being your mom. It is going to break my heart not being able to do so and I pray you know that it does not mean that you aren't on my mind. 

I pray that you are close by watching over us. It doesn't matter how long you've been gone, I will always need you Bosty.