Tuesday, May 18, 2010

What to say...

I'm at a loss as to what to write about on this blog lately. I think that may be obvious by the lack of updates on here. Life is busy around our house and I barely have time to respond to emails, let alone come up with an entire blog post. Plus I know that if I routinely take time to post on here then I risk opening up old wounds.

And I know that's stupid. I know those 'wounds' have never healed and will never heal. But it's nice to have some days of sweet ignorance. Ignorance that I am not the mommy I was before Benjamin. Because as much as I love being his mom and having had him in my life, some days it feels easier to pretend that I am the mommy of two living children. And that's it. Yes, when I think about it (and especially when I actually write it down) it seems horrible. Horrible to say that I want to pretend my sweet baby boy never existed. But really, that's not what I am saying. Or is it? I don't know any more.

It's been 18 months since Benjamin was born. He would now be the same age as Jackson was when we had Benjamin, actually about a month older. When I realized that it sort of took my breath away. I feel like it was just a few months ago that my life changed so drastically. But it was a year and a half. A whole year and a half. That is just insane. And I remember thinking that Jackson was such a big kid then. Not a little toddler anymore, but a full out boy. I look back at photos from then and he still had the chubby little features of a toddler, but in my mind he was my oldest son, so he was a boy already. Now to think that Benjamin should be that age too just makes me sad. So I shut it out. Move on to something else.

But what is that doing? Am I not dealing with my grief? Have I dealt with my grief enough by now that I don't need to think about these things? Is Benjamin in his special place in my heart and my mind where I can think fleeting thoughts about him and not feel a pang of sadness or guilt. Are thoughts of him safe there? Every once in a while I have a moment where I get sad thinking about him, but for the most part he is just a reality to me. He is my 'stillborn son'. So clinical, so unfeeling. At least to those that don't know. A lot of people hear the word 'stillborn' and think along the same lines as 'miscarriage'. It was a sad loss, but not something that should really affect your life that drastically. It's not like your child died in your arms or something. Nothing to be saddened about for years following. Oh how misguided those people are. Benjamin did not die in my arms. I did not watch him die. To have watched him die would mean that I also watched him live. Sadly I did not get that joy. The closest I got to watching him live was the grainy distorted ultrasound image, or the way he'd make my belly contort and lurch. I didn't get to see his chest rise and fall in sweet baby slumber. I didn't get to see his chubby little baby fists jerking into the air as he startled over a tiny noise. I didn't get to see his eyelids flutter as he dreamed. I didn't get to see his toes wiggling as he belted out a baby goat cry. I suppose it's a good thing that I didn't have to watch him die. But to have watched him die would have meant that I got to watch him live. And some days I so wish I could have had both. To have known the moment that he died. To have been able to know that he was dying and give him a proper goodbye. To have kissed his warm forehead.

And that is all for today.

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