Friday, May 27, 2016

Twelve Months

My Hudson,

We were just shy of 12 hours of labor when you came into the world at 1:47 am. I remember the way my arms shot out for you and I fell in love harder than ever before. You were the most incredible thing I had ever seen and your Daddy and I couldn't get enough of you. Through our deep pain, we couldn't help but marvel at you. You had such long legs and the cutest little pot belly! I couldn't get over the curl in your hair, your precious ears and my favorite, that nose. I rubbed your little feet and toes. I found our matching birthmarks on the bottom of our left foot middle toes. Through the tears, I spent so much time tracing your cheeks with my finger tips thinking maybe, just maybe, he'll wake up.

You were held and loved on by both sets of your grandparents and two of your uncles. You were baptized surrounded by your family in a room filled with love. I watched as your Daddy held you, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms, the way he looked at you, the way he adored you. 

It was 12:26 pm when we said goodbye. After a flood of tears, so many kisses and rubbing our noses together for the last time, I handed you over to a stranger and watched as you were taken away, the door closed behind you, and you were gone. It was the absolute worst moment of my life. I cannot breathe when I think about it and the way my heart shattered even more so than it already had. And now, here we are, one year later. There has not been a single day that has passed that you haven't been on the forefront of my mind. Every single day I've cried for you and said a prayer of bargain just to have one more minute with you again. Every day I wonder what we would be doing if you were here.

I write this between sobs because it's the only way I can. I've sat down to do this so many times but the outcome always ends up that I'm gasping for air, typing through blurred tears. So that's just going to be the way this goes.

It has been a year without you.

A year without looking into your eyes, feeling your skin on mine, seeing your first smiles and comforting you as you cry.

A year without dirty diapers, baths, story time, cuddles, driving around in the car to get you to fall asleep, laughing as you do something new to surprise us.

A year without family memories enriching our lives and wading our way through moments of uncertainty as we tried to raise you as first-time parents.

There is no birthday party to plan. No traditions to create. No gifts to give. There's no smash cake or crib full of balloons. There's no twelve month picture and the chance to look back at each month to see how you've grown and changed.

We've been robbed of this first year with you and all it would entail. We've been robbed of a lifetime with you who you would have been. I miss everything I imagined in my mind with you and everything I never knew to think of. I know this past year with you would not have been perfect. I know that through all the things I've imagined, there are an infinite number of other ways it could have gone. I know this past year would have been challenging, we would have struggled at times, we would have had our difficulties. There would have been frustrations but at the end of the day there would have been so much love and happiness.

My heart hurts but through the pain I can also rejoice because all I would ever want is the absolute best for you. I can take some solace in knowing you never knew disappointment, pain, sadness, or fear. All you knew is love and eternal life. If you can't be here in our arms, I am comforted to know who holds you in Heaven.

Even still, selfishly I wish you were here. I wish we had this year together. I wish we had a lifetime to create as a family. I cherish you and my heart will always ache for you, the boy we should have had.

We will celebrate you through the pain. This day is for you. If you could, send us a little sign today. I need that extra reminder of your presence on a day like this.

Happy birthday son, I love you so much. I'll be watching...



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