The dreaded question...

This was originally written in October of 2012.  I'm not sure why I left it in the "drafts" for so long.

This has been a pretty rotten week for me.  I celebrated my first birthday without AJ on October 5th.  It's hard to get too excited about anything when my heart is so broken.  I could tell John's heart wasn't in it either.  I have made peace with getting older.  Every day I complete here on Earth is one day closer to my eternal Home.  And I am really looking forward to going Home.  Last year on the day after my birthday, I discovered that I was pregnant with AJ.  What a gift!  I never dreamed that one year later, I would be missing him for 134 days.  I know that God has a perfect plan, but I sure wish I could understand it because it doesn't feel perfect to me.

Today I had one of my biggest fears realized.  I went to they eye doctor and he asked me how many kids I have.  I thought about it for while and answered 4 (because I was pretty sure I couldn't make it through a conversation about #5).  The he said to me "Boy, it took you awhile to answer that.  Did you have to count them?"  I politely smiled and said "yeah."  In reality, I didn't know how to explain it.  Then he asked me their ages.  Talk about a knife in my heart!  I have thought about this question a lot hoping that no one would ever ask me.  Obviously I haven't come up with an answer yet.  I mean really, what do you say?  I have 5 children.  Their ages are 11, 8, 8, 4, and dead.  Awkward!!!  There was absolutely no way I could have this conversation without bursting into tears and I doubt that is what the eye doctor wanted to deal with today.  I almost answered "no comment" but I thought he might find that odd too.  So, I have spent a good chunk of the last week in tears.  I am hoping tomorrow is better...there's always tomorrow.

A similar event happened a few months ago.  I was in the mall with my kids just walking down the corridor on a not-so-busy day when an older gentlemen walks over to me and says "Gee, you almost have a whole basketball team."  If you could count the child I carry in my heart, I would have a whole team.  I politely answered "almost."  I can only imagine the uncomfortable look I would get if I said "Yeah, too bad my son died.  I would have a whole team."

On a bright note, we took family pictures this week with the same photographer that took AJ's pictures at the hospital.  In some weird way, it was healing.  It was good to be with her.  Other than our kids, parents, hospital staff, and the funeral director, she is the only other person who saw and touched my son.  She was there.  She knows he is real.  She has such a kind spirit.  She saw us at our lowest and know she has seen us in a much better place.  We chose to use her because we wanted to somehow honor AJ in our pictures and I knew I wouldn't have to explain it to her.  By now, I'm sure you've all figured out that it is hard for me to talk about AJ.  I love to talk about him...but I still have a hard time doing it without tears.

Lost Dreams

Today is September 25, 2013 and my heart aches for my son who should be turning 16 months today.  I wish I could put into words how it feels...but I can't.  I really thought that getting through that first year would be the toughest...but it's not.  I thought maybe I would feel some sense of "closure" after celebrating his first birthday...like maybe life would feel a little more "normal" again...but it doesn't.  In fact, sometimes I feel worse.  I think, in the back of my mind, I was hoping to forget a little bit but I see him everyday.  My heart aches for him all the time.  And, just to be clear, I don't EVER want to forget my son...just some of the hurt.  I guess after one year, I hoped it would hurt less. 

Perhaps some of my hurt comes from my perceived expectations of others.  I feel like there is a sense of relief from others that this first year is over.  Like AJ is now in the past.  We don't have to talk about him anymore or be as "gentle" with me.  Like my grieving period is over and it's time to resume life as usual.  Again, this is my perception and perhaps it's skewed.  I don't even know what I want from other people.  I just don't want them to forget.  I have a 5th child.  A son.  His name is AJ.  I labored and gave birth to him.  I held him in my arms.  I kissed his little head.  I didn't want to give him back.

Every month leading up to AJ's first birthday, we went to the cemetery and did something special.  I spent many hours planning his party.  And when it was over, it seemed like there was nothing left to do.  The two months following his birthday where nearly unbearable.  August and September have been extremely busy which I think just keeps my mind busy and there is less time to think.  Some times the quietness hurts so much that I have to find some project to work on.

I believe that people genuinely try understand my sadness and I am thankful for that.  What I think people don't understand is that when you lose a baby....you lose all your dreams for that child.  I carried him for 37 1/2 weeks.  I had plans for this boy.  For this child I prayed.  When I brought Alexa to her first day of kindergarten, I went back out to my car and cried...not because I was dropping my baby girl off for her first day of school but because I knew that I would never get to take AJ to his first day of kindergarten.  How do you explain that to anyone?  I didn't just lose a son, I lost all my dreams for him, too.

We are still walking by faith...because we know we can't do this alone.