Thinking of you

There's a heart breaking form of nostalgia setting in. The 7 month mark of your passing hit me hard, and each day since it's felt like a ton of bricks have been placed on my chest. You're really not coming back... 

I guess this is far from the first time I've sat here trying to get that through my head, but it's a little different now because I no longer have to try to make myself believe it. The little glimmer of disbelief and shock that stuck with me is now gone, but I still believe in you Bosty. Actually, I think you're the only thing I believe in. I believe in the love your presence made me feel. I believe in the joy you brought. I believe in the light that shined in everyone's eyes that ever met you. I believe you are the best thing that ever graced our families life. I believe you are the most beautiful, yet terribly tragic lesson I've ever learned. You changed me forever, and in ways that means you get to live on forever, just not how I would have ever thought.

I don't know how I'll wake up feeling 1 year from now or 20, but my heart beats different now and always will. Half of the reason being because it's broken, and half of the reason being because it's beating for you. 

You're special, my fat little love... It might hurt like hell having to do it for you, but best believe I'll take that pain making sure you're remembered. 

I love you. Forever and every day after that... 

It's been a long day without you my friend, 

and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again..

7 months

My darling little fatboy, 

In two days it will have been 7 months since you left me. I really don't know where the time has gone. 7 months. I really don't like that. I miss you so much that sometimes I literally physically feel ill. I hate to even say it but looking through your pictures and videos rips me apart. I use to do so constantly, but there is an intense pain that goes along with it now. I'm so sorry, Bosty. So terribly, completely, and utterly sorry. I'd give the world to go back in time because I'd never leave you or your brother to go back to work. I think of the first day I went back quite often. I had gotten both of you dropped off and stopped at the gas station a block away and realized I had a completely flat tire. I remember thinking that it was a sign that I just shouldn't be leaving you yet. There was no part of me that wanted to in the first place. You and your brother were perfect together and there is nothing I could ever cherish more in my entire life than the 68 days I had with you. 

I promised you that I will get you justice... This is just the start but it's coming, Bosty, even if takes the rest of my life, I promise.
I love you so very much. 

http://www.keloland.com/newsdetail.cfm/parent-concerns-raise-questions-about-day-care-regulations/?id=186128

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. 

5 months

Bosty, 

My little fat darling with the chubby cheeks, 

I miss you so much it hurts. 

You really do not ever leave my mind. When I wake up, when I brush my teeth, when I make your brother breakfast, when I drive somewhere, anywhere and anytime, you are right in the front of my thoughts. 

I still beg God, the universe, the stars, literally anyone I can think of to give me one more moment with you. It's hard, chubbles, it really is. 

I never once could have imagined that I would be that mom.. The one who's baby dies. Knowing this nightmare doesn't just go away scares me so much. I still think you're coming back. Even if it takes another year or a few years, I imagine you coming back to me. That's where you're supposed to be.. Right here. 

I should not have to dream of your face, your eyes, your hands, your hair, your voice, because you're supposed to be next to me. You always were before. You stayed in my arms and I'm so happy I held you as close as I did because each second of it is now the only memories I will ever have of you. Your grandma told me a month or so after you died that she would watch me staring at you like I was studying you. I really did memorize your face and I loved doing so, before I even knew it would be the most precious thing I ever held in my heart. I will never forget you, Boston, not ever. It is the most awful pain to wake each day and see your urn instead of your face but please don't ever think I love you any less.

In an urn, in front of me, in my arms, or in heaven, you will forever be the only boy that made my heart skip a beat and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you little boy, so much more than anyone could ever understand. You're the best angel, and I'm so proud you're mine. Heaven got lucky. 

Forever love, and I mean it... You are forever.