July 2011, 13 months old |
You had further hearing tests and got hearing aids (that you preferred to eat rather than wear). You had your cleft lip repaired (twice). You began serial casting to prepare for another surgery so that you would be able hopefully walk with your walker. That was not on your list of things to do. You seemed to think the purpose of that was so your brothers could zoom you around the house.
And for the next several years, July brought a slowdown to life, and an increased opportunity to just soak you in. Visits to water parks, the occasional family reunion. One year a road trip to Arizona. Summer concerts, soccer tournaments. A baseball tournament or two (I can't remember). Fireworks and parades. Memories.
I began to take them for granted. You were just here, part of things, loving us and laughing at us.
And now you're not.
So after that wonderful July when you were 13 months old and I started planning for life instead of waiting for death, this July I'm working to figure out how to live without you.
You know, it's hard, so excruciatingly hard. Honestly, I don't know how to do it yet. I mean, I'm moving through things. I show up. I'm so grateful to be your mom, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, even for not having this pain.
It's still a physical ache in my lungs, my heart. But you were, and are worth it.
Oh baby, I miss you.
Love,
Mama
Mama
“It is now, in this world, that we must live.”
– Andre Gide
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