I lost my son on this day in 2004. I miscarried.
So strange to remember this day. There is no body to visit, no ashes to hold close, and no service was held the day I lost my son. There was just blood, agonizing pain and tears...and I think I wanted to die...right after I felt like my soul shattered which was right after my heart broke. I honestly have no idea what has kept me here this long. Maybe it was the grief counselling I was given immediately. Maybe it was remembering I still had something worth living for. Maybe I still had hope. I'm not really sure. All I know is that somehow, I am still here. I made a promise to my son. Out of guilt but it was still a promise.
I would live my life for us.
Through the years there was hope. Hope that one day I would be able to tell future children that they have any angel Brother watching them from heaven. Now, for the past few years, that hope was taken from me completely. I'll never have my own biological children. I'll never again feel the flutter of life inside of me. I will never hear the sound of my baby's heartbeat. I won't experience this because I was robbed of it. I will never again know that my body was ripe with life and was willing to give it. I am no longer a doorway to life. I don't possess that type of Earth magic anymore.
That path is closed to me now. A surgeon once told me it would be a miracle of God if I ever did get pregnant considering the damage done internally among all the other factors against me. Is God still in the business of performing miracles?
Regardless of what this day represents, it also reminds me of simple truths. Of how you should appreciate what you have now, right now, before it is gone from you forever. To take pleasure in the small things. As cliche as this sounds, a moment of eternal happiness. Life is about give and take. I was given 100,000 plus minutes of heart soaring happiness growing inside of me and I will always treasure that. I can comprehend that who I loved (and continue to love) so very much was taken from me, from our family, too soon. Loss...it is something I have become familiar with. I learned that even if they are not here, I still carry them with me. So, in this way, I have been able to keep living and to keep my promise.
I carry my son. I carry him in my heart. I held him in my body every second of his life. Now I will carry him in my heart every second of mine.
Every year, on what was my projected due date (it was probably wrong but who cares, I made it his birthday)...I celebrate it. Sometimes, I write him a letter and other times I just buy fireworks and spend the day alone drawing or talking to him...This past year I baked a cake...but some years, if I'm taking it really hard, I just get drunk. I am not condoning self-medicating but it does happen. I would be lying if I said there wasn't a time where I just didn't get stupid drunk by myself and cry. Yes, I realize alcohol is a depressant and no I am not making any excuses - just telling it like it is. Last year, I celebrated with tangerine wine ( I actually held myself to two glasses) and made a big supper for my family with a birthday cake. It was important to me that he have a birthday cake. I never made him one. He deserved one. So I was inspired to do that after I wrote the following for him...
Untitled:
Today you would have been 8 years old,
I wonder what kind of cake would you
have liked.
What kind of birthday wishes would you
have made?
Would one of them be for a new bike?
Would you have looked at me and would I
have seen myself?
Or would I have seen your Father
staring back?
Would you giggle madly like I do?
Or chuckle silently in the back?
Would you have my smile or would that
be something you share with your Dad?
Would you be a silly, adventurous child
or a serious budding scientist?
Would birthdays make you happy or would
they make you mad?
Your Father never liked birthdays but I
loved them.
Would you reach out for my hand yet or
would you be too big for that?
Would you remind me of how many candles
go on your cake thinking I might have forgotten?
Would you be asking me for a dog this
year or a cat?
Would you be upset that I am not with
your Dad?
When you left it created such a hole in
our lives,
nothing eased that pain.
All I have are the too few weeks of
having you inside of me,
and I would give up everything just to
have you here again.
I wanted to follow you when you left
me.
You were the only child I could have
ever had.
You were all I have ever hoped for,
dreamed of and wanted in my life.
I was very sad.
I grieve for you yet my angel.
8 years is but a blink of an eye when
it comes to my grief.
Still, for those too few weeks I was
happier than I have ever been or knew how to be.
It was simply eternity in a moment when
I heard your heart beat.
I held you every second of your life,
and I have loved you every second you
were known to me.
I have kept you as close to me as
possible.
I miss you in a way I can never explain
to anyone.
I have yearned to hear your voice and
wondered what it would sound like.
I have cried at the thought you being
afraid without me there to help you through the night.
I have done everything I possibly could
to live my life,
I have only ever tried to do what it is
right.
I do not live just for myself anymore,
for the past 8 years I have been living
for two.
Today is would have been your
birthday...
and I never did get to make that cake
for you....
and so I made him a cake. I lit the candle and wished for him. I wished for his happiness in whatever form he is in. I wished for him to know he was made in love and is loved and will always be loved...even long after I stop drawing breath. He will always be my son. My first. He will always be remembered - even if it is just by me. He changed my life. He was so tiny...and, only he, was capable of showing me how it feels to love like I love him.
I carry this grief with me but that is not all there is to me- it doesn't define me. I meant it when I promised to live for us. I love. I laugh. I cry. I scream. I hug. I kiss. I dream. I hope. I make mistakes. I wish upon stars. I get amazed. I see the beauty in everything around me. I see the miracles in small things. As strange as this sounds, especially coming from me, I seen the beauty of God one day in the smile of a young child peering into the arthritis ridden hands of an old woman who was showing that child...the baby bird she just saved after it fell from it's nest. I see things more clearly. I bend instead of breaking. I was once called the reed...and I finally get it.
Still...
This doesn't mean that I will stop not liking the 17th of November...I'm not sure if I will ever be able to approach this day without any sadness or anger but I think acknowledging that fact is a good place to start.
~ Julia
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