The closer I get to September 12 (c-section day), the further away I actually feel.
Xavier has been on my mind more than usual lately. He would be 16 months old. I wish so badly he was here. I wish he had never died. I wish I didn’t have to be a mom that has a dead son. But I do, and I am. I have hope that Scarlett will come home to live with us. That she will survive gestation (I can’t believe that is even a worry….that my baby will live through this pregnancy). I don’t think there are words to adequately express the confusion I am feeling these days.
I saw a boy today with his mama. A little guy about Xavier’s age. He was rollie pollie, fair haired and full of mischief. I watched as he was swept up into his mothers arms and bury his head in her neck. I wanted that to be me. For my boy to snuggle into me. Maybe I am being selfish…I have had two boys already and have experienced that same scenario a thousand times. The problem is I know what I am missing, my body feels these absences like I have a phantom limb.
I worry that all that I crave for will not be met with a daughter, I worry that in trying to have another baby after his death, I haven’t measured entirely the possibility that it won’t be what I want. That what I want, will never be…(all of these deep thoughts as she is barraging me with her kicks)
I am entering the third trimester of my pregnancy with my rainbow after the storm, and yet the storm rages on today. I am sure my melancholy is temporary, I am for the most part OVER THE DAMN MOON, but today? Today I am indulging in missing my boy…and wanting what I just can’t have…him…and her.