“Who would you be? What would you look like?”
-Lyrics from the song “Gone too soon” by Daughtry. A song I listen
to every single day. Most often multiple times a day. Every single lyric in this
song fits how I feel on a daily basis. Every day I ask the above questions. No matter where I am,
I’ll sometimes close my eyes or just stare off into space and imagine what he’d look like.
I imagine what his laugh would sound like. I imagine what it would be like
for him to look me right in the eyes and call me “Mamma”
My heart hurts so much
knowing I’ll never be able to experience any of that with Brecken.
Mother’s say they never knew they could love someone at the level and intensity that they
do with their children. I never knew I could love and hurt at the same time at that intense level. Everything
surrounding his life is tainted with sadness. I can’t feel happy over a moment without being reminded
of his situation. Like bringing him home, for an example. I was
thrilled to be able to take my baby home, where he belonged in the first place. It’s a moment
every parent looks forward to: leaving the hospital and on to begin your life as a family.
There was so much joy and excitement in bringing Brecken home. But at the same time,
we knew bringing him home didn’t mean happy endings. We were bringing our baby boy home
to live out the rest of his short days. And short they were.
Thinking about that realization makes my chest
build up with overwhelmingly amounts of complete sadness. All I ever wanted was to be a mother, so why was my baby
ripped away from me? Why is my baby no longer in my arms? What did I do to deserve
this prison of pain I’ll be in for the rest of my life?
My heart misses him so much.
Every ounce of my being wants to reject the life I live now.
(Not suicide….just to make that clear)
My life isn’t supposed to be consumed with going about my days without a child.
I’m not supposed to freely head to the store. Torry and I aren’t supposed to freely
run errands together. We aren’t supposed to be able to sleep in until noon.
I feel as if my mind hasn’t fully caught up. It hasn’t fully
caught that there is no baby to take care of. It still expects to be woken up in the middle of the night.
It still expects that I’ll be changing a million diapers a day. It still expects tummy time and cuddles and laughter and
I see his face on every infant, toddler and child I see. I get this sinking feeling
when I do. I feel I’ll always search in the faces of others for my son. But I’ll never find him.
Gone Too Soon