Too young

Dear Corbin,

Today a little baby girl named Brooklyn gained her wings, as did a three week old named Hunter. I'm sure you helped welcome them and held their hand to ease their fear. Their family is so sad and scared; could you ask for some peace and strength to be sent their way?

I hate it when any child passes away. It's so hard to understand why they were taken so young, but I know they all go to a good place. Give Brooklyn and Hunter a hug for their families. I know you all are no longer in pain and that gives me a little bit of peace.

Love Mama


If you are reading this, could you send up a prayer, blessings, or just have a moment of silence for these and all children that are taken too young? Some pass from heart defects, others from abuse, others because they were born too early; but ALL were loved and are very much missed.

Written in Stone

Your headstone is here Peanut. Sitting strong above where you lay, memorializing your life and what you mean to us. 

I hope you like it. 

I love how it doesn't look like the rest of the headstones. 

I love, love, love the back.

I love that your grave is no longer unmarked. 

Rest in peace, my sweet one. 

Till we meet again. 

Love, mama.

Dear Corbin,

It's been three months.

Three months without you here.

Today was our annual family reunion. All I could think about was I should have had you with me. I should be showing you off to family members that only come around this time of year. I should have been holding the hand of a toddler while carrying you in my arms.

It effects me, subconsciously. I was grouchy and I blamed it on being tired. But I know the truth. I miss you. I'm mad that I don't have you around to show off. I'm mad that most of your family never got the chance to meet you.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound selfish. I would never wish you back just to have you around because I know that it wouldn't take away your disease. I would never wish for you to be back in my arms just to suffer through more surgeries and hospital stays.

So I'm sorry for this rant, but I miss you.

I recently won two pieces of artwork that are going to make up your memorial wall. I haven't started on it yet since I'm waiting on those to arrive, but as soon as it is finished I will show you what it looks like.

Till next time Peanut,

Love mama.

Corbin's Story was just posted on Faces of Loss, which is what it sounds like: A website dedicated to sharing stories from mothers who have lost their child.

I was anxious to get it posted and waited and waited. It took about two months but now it's up.

Now I just feel sad.

Memories

Ever since you left, my memory has gotten worse.

I don't know if that is part of grief, but it worries me how bad my memory is. Which also scares me. I don't want to forget anything about you. Somethings I try not to think about; like how you looked when you were sick. But I never want to forget how soft your hair was, or how you looked when the nurses shaped your hair into a mohawk.
I don't want to forget your tiny, wrinkly toes.
Or your gorgeous dark, blue eyes. Or the way you fell asleep in my arms the day of your operation, one arm cocked out to the side, snoring.

That memory makes me smile.

I'm scared because my memories are all I have left of you and I feel like they are slipping away.

Of moths and sunsets

I went to visit your grave yesterday Peanut.

It's quiet there. Peaceful; with only the hum of the highway in the background.

I feel the tug to visit you. For two months, I made sure to go every Monday and I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with that.

As I was standing over your resting place, there was a small, white moth that fluttered near. A smile broke out on my face as I imagined it was you, coming to say hello. I watched as it came toward me and just barely touched my leg then flew on. I smiled, tears in my eyes, as I watched you fly away.

Thank you for saying hello.

I don't usually say anything when I visit. I just sit, and watch, and listen. Hoping to hear you or feel the wind blow through your wind chimes. I love how the sun filters through the tall pines and casts a warm glow over you. It's like God is smiling, wishing you a peaceful night.

I miss you baby.

I had, what you might call, an epiphany yesterday. I was looking down at the base of what will hold your headstone; imagining what you look like now. Not in the physical sense, but in the heavenly sense. I was sad, at first, imagining you in the arms of my dead relatives. But then I realized; you are whole now. There are no scars and there is no more pain. There are no more needles and no more beeping machines. You will never have to have another procedure or blood test. You will never need another surgery. God has healed your heart and you are whole.
It sounds silly, but it didn't really hit me till yesterday. I'm happy that you aren't in pain anymore. It was so hard to watch you suffer in silence.

So it's okay, baby, that you had to leave. I know you tried your hardest to heal and stay with us. I'm glad you got to meet your brother and that we had you home for those two, short days.
It's okay. I'm okay.

I miss you though.

Till next time, thinking of you always.
xoxo