Dear Peanut,
We are getting closer to another holiday without you.
It doesn't bother me so much about the actual holiday, but more of the passage of time. It's a marker in the year that shows how much longer it has been since you gained your wings. I bought some decorations for your grave today. It was sobering to be standing over your grave, placing Easter eggs in a basket by your headstone. As I finished, stood up, and looked around me all I could see were more headstones with fresh flowers, Easter bunnies, and wind chimes.
I'm not the only parent missing my child during this holiday.
It's the little things that get to me more then anything else. It's the umbrella in the back window of my car, the umbrella I bought at Ruby Memorial during your hospital stay because I forgot to bring mine. It's the pregnancy announcements all over Facebook. It's your crib that you never got a chance to use that I had to sell because we needed the money. It's your bassinet and clothes sitting in a closet that I don't have the strength to get rid of. It's the t-shirts I bought while in Morgantown that I wore the last time I held you. It's the headphones I bought while in Morgantown and wore while waiting for rounds.
There are so many little things that are connected to you, surrounding me daily, that remind me of those tiny, fleeting moments we had together. Not all memories are sad, but that's all they are now: memories. I don't have the chance to make new memories and that is something I will never get over.
I'm thankful for those little memories, those flashes of a time when we were together. I just wish you were here to make more.
It's not all sad. When I do see those newborns in the grocery story, I smile, because I know you are helping to save lives. In about a year, those newborns I will see will have been tested for heart defects. All because of you.
And that makes me so very happy.
Missing you,
Mama
We are getting closer to another holiday without you.
It doesn't bother me so much about the actual holiday, but more of the passage of time. It's a marker in the year that shows how much longer it has been since you gained your wings. I bought some decorations for your grave today. It was sobering to be standing over your grave, placing Easter eggs in a basket by your headstone. As I finished, stood up, and looked around me all I could see were more headstones with fresh flowers, Easter bunnies, and wind chimes.
I'm not the only parent missing my child during this holiday.
It's the little things that get to me more then anything else. It's the umbrella in the back window of my car, the umbrella I bought at Ruby Memorial during your hospital stay because I forgot to bring mine. It's the pregnancy announcements all over Facebook. It's your crib that you never got a chance to use that I had to sell because we needed the money. It's your bassinet and clothes sitting in a closet that I don't have the strength to get rid of. It's the t-shirts I bought while in Morgantown that I wore the last time I held you. It's the headphones I bought while in Morgantown and wore while waiting for rounds.
There are so many little things that are connected to you, surrounding me daily, that remind me of those tiny, fleeting moments we had together. Not all memories are sad, but that's all they are now: memories. I don't have the chance to make new memories and that is something I will never get over.
I'm thankful for those little memories, those flashes of a time when we were together. I just wish you were here to make more.
It's not all sad. When I do see those newborns in the grocery story, I smile, because I know you are helping to save lives. In about a year, those newborns I will see will have been tested for heart defects. All because of you.
And that makes me so very happy.
Missing you,
Mama
