Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Happy Birthday Benjamin

Dear Benjamin,

It doesn’t seem right that an entire year has passed since you were born. It honestly feels like just yesterday I was still pregnant with you, still wondering how you being here would change our little family. I wish so badly to be able to go back to those days.

When they told me you had died I was devastated. I could not bring myself to believe that you had actually died. That we wouldn’t get to bring you home and watch you grow up. It was just too painful, too unfair. But that’s what happened. Your life was the 36 weeks you spent nestled inside me. These days I like to tell myself that all you ever knew was love. That you never had to feel pain, feel sadness, feel hatred, or feel alone. You were always with me and I believe you knew how much I loved you. I believe you heard your daddy and your brother and knew how much they loved you too. I think you knew your family.

This year has been an interesting one. When I think back to the day you were born it feels like just yesterday, but when I think of how much has happened this year it feels like these 12 months were actually 3 years. So much has changed. YOU have changed so much in this family, and in this world. How can one little baby that never got to take a breath of air change so much? By the love that so many people felt for him, by the impact that his death had on so many people. And you know what Benjamin? So many people did love you and were so saddened by your death; people that we know and people that we don’t even know. Your little life touched people all across the world. So many people know who you are.

I don’t know what I believe happened to you when you died. I don’t believe in heaven and hell and all of that. But I don’t believe in reincarnation either. I certainly don’t believe that you just ceased to exist once you died. I guess I believe you are still around somehow, still watching over us. I find I talk to you sometimes, mostly when I am alone in the car. That’s our special time and I can talk to you and cry for you. I don’t cry as much as I used to. That definitely does not mean that I don’t miss you anymore though. It just means that I have accepted the unfairness of your death. I know you had to die.

How I wish that you were here to blow out the candle on your cake tonight. One of my happiest memories of Jackson was watching him demolish his first birthday cake. My heart actually aches right now thinking about how I won’t get to watch you do that. I am going to bake you a cake anyway. Jackson is going to blow out your candle and then we’ll all have some of it. We won’t use forks and we’ll try to make a mess for you.

I love you Benjamin; just as much today as I did a year ago. That love will never go away and will never diminish. I could go on to have twenty more children and none of them will take any of my love for you away. But each and every one of them would know they have a sweet baby brother named Benjamin.

So if you are around, watching over us, please make this day easy for your daddy and I. Please give us ways to think of you with a smile and a happy heart. Don’t let us dwell on the pain and unfairness of losing you. Remind us that even though you are not physically here with us you will always live on in our hearts and in the laughs of your brother and sister. Please know that tonight when I kiss Jackson goodnight I’m giving him an extra kiss for you. And when I cuddle Lexi while she sleeps please know I’m cuddling her extra lovingly for you. I love you sweetie and I miss you so much.

Happy Birthday Honeybun.


1 comment:

  1. Rachel, I am thinking of you today. In memory of Benjamin I brought food to a friend who lost her baby recently. I hope you find a bit of comfort knowing how touched I am by your story and by your profound loss, a country away. --Janet