Another Year

Another year has passed. And it is time to wish our baby boy another "happy birthday".  It's supposed to get easier, but it's really not.  He is one of the first people I think of when I wake up and he never leaves my heart throughout the day. 

This year, I am having a really difficult time trying to find the words to explain how much I miss that boy.  How much I wish that he could be here to celebrate his seventh year.  How much I wish I could get a glimpse of what he would have looked like.

But I can't find them. 

The words are lost.  I feel like, each year, I say the same things:  we miss him, we will celebrate his life, we don't want him to be forgotten.  It's the same thing when I look at his pictures:  the same pictures year after year.  No new pictures are taken.  No sweet smiles for the camera.

This monotony is torture.  Nothing changes.  Our baby boy is still gone.  He will never grow up.  He will never have a birthday party.  His baby brother will never know him here on earth. 

And my heart is still broken.  Utterly broken without him here. 

I know that some of you think that the grief should be lessened, that I should move on. 

But I have moved on.  Just eleven months after Luke was born, we welcomed James into our family (and he was very, very planned).  We moved to Tennessee right after we lost Luke and to Georgia three years later.  I have stepped out of my comfort zone and tried new things.  I can talk about Luke to anyone without shedding a tear.  I went back to work as a preschool teacher, even after I had sworn that I would never return to the profession (my last year of teaching in Texas was while I was pregnant with Luke).  I try with all my might to share our story with those who are facing a similar situation.

BUT...that part of me that is utterly broken?  The same thing that was broken inside of his tiny body? 

My heart.

My heart will never be the same.

Have you ever dropped a plate and it broke?  Like into a million pieces? 

What happens when you try to glue that plate back together?  It's virtually impossible to glue each piece in it's correct place without having some gaps in the ceramic. 

That's my heart.  It was broken into a million pieces when we lost Luke.  Over the past seven years, I have tried with the strongest of glue to put those pieces back together.  Some pieces were big enough to fit together, but there are still so many gaps in the ceramic of my heart.  Those gaps can only be filled with Luke.  I will keep using that super glue and I will try to pick up the pieces, but...

There will always be gaps.

My heart will never be the same.

Because his heart was too broken for this world.

So on his birthday this year, we will celebrate.  We will remember.  We will grieve.

Because those gaps in my heart?  They are filled with grief.  And it's o.k. to grieve.

Our hearts are as fragile as a plate.  They are so easily broken.  And can never be fully repaired.  There will always be gaps.

I will leave you with a little note to Wittle Bubba...

Dear sweet boy,

Happy 7th birthday!  I remember the day well.  There were some very precious moments in that hospital room.  And some of the scariest moments of my life. 

I remember right after you were born, I looked at them cleaning you in the warmer, taking in every part of you:  your Daddy's nose, Grampa's ears, and Great Gramma's mouth.  How could we have guessed that a few hours later, they would tell us about your broken heart?  That they would take you from our arms and stick you with probes and needles?  That in a week, they would open your chest to put a "bandage" on your heart?  How could we have guessed?  And how could we have prevented the pain that you faced? 

Through it all, you were amazing.  Sweet, calm, strong.  A miracle.  Daddy and I are so very proud of you and who you became.  We didn't get to see you grow up, but you lived so much in those 5 1/2 weeks.  You are truly the strongest person I have ever known. 

Baby, I miss you so much.  But I was so very lucky.  I was blessed to carry an angel inside of me.  To feel you kick.  To have a relationship with you that no one else experienced.  I was given a gift that I will cherish forever.  And I am forever grateful for that gift. You are that gift.

I wonder who will celebrate with you today?  Pop-Pop?  Uncle Bob?  All of your great grandparents?  You heart friends in heaven?  I know it will be quite the celebration.  Your brothers and sister will send balloons for the party, so keep a lookout for them. 

I love you more than you could possibly know.  Please pray for your Mommy...and Daddy...and Em, Matt, and James.  It's really tough without you here. 

Love,
Your mommy