You know what I hate?
I hate knowing. I hate recognizing. I hate understanding.
I know that eventually, things will get easier. I know the tears won’t be flowing hardcore
every single day. I know this empty hole in my heart will get smaller (never closed). I know I have to go
through the grieving process in order to heal to the best that I can. There’s no way around this kind of pain.
Yet, huge waves engulf me when I least expect it. And it hurts. It hurts like nothing has ever hurt before.
I feel like when a wave hits unexpectedly, that I’m literally dying from the inside out.
Two nights ago was one of those times.
I was flipping through a parent magazine of sorts that had come in the mail
earlier that day. Unbeknownst to me, it was specifically targeted to Brecken’s age: 2 months (on the 8th).
I didn’t realize this until I reached that particular section. It was a section telling me what my son should be doing
at this age. The first smiles start to happen. You begin to hear the baby giggles etc. I started to tear up and allowed a
few drops to roll silently down my cheek. We’ll never know what Brecken’s smile would look like. Even if he had
lived, we’re not sure if his brain would ever tell him to express that particular emotion. It just broke my heart. It isn’t
fair! I should be seeing my baby’s smiles. I should hear his laughter. I should be inhaling his sweet baby scent.
I knew my crying was going to get worse and harder to conceal from Torry, so I grabbed a box of tissue,
went upstairs into Brecken’s room, closed the door, sat in the rocker and held his elephant blanket up to my face as I
started to cry. I was still trying to keep it under control so that Torry didn’t get worried and come
upstairs. But after a few minutes, the sobs just forced themselves out no matter how hard I tried.
Torry already heard me and made his way upstairs. He knelt down on his knees in front of me
and let me fall into him, crying uncontrollably. Through broken tears I began to tell him
that I miss Brecken so much. That it hurts beyond any pain I’ve ever experienced. That I’m afraid
of forgetting him and other’s forgetting him. (Yet, at the same time, knowing I won’t forget him. Ever)
For wanting kids as bad and for as long as I have, it just tears me apart that my firstborn son is gone.
I just still cannot comprehend that I gave birth.
I have a son.
I am a mother.
That’s been the hardest of everything to wrap my mind around: I am a mother.
My son only lived for three weeks. I hardly got to know him. He’s now been gone longer than he lived
and each day further away from his passing makes it seem more of a nightmare that I’m still waiting to wake up
The cards have stopped coming, the messages have lessened and people are
moving on with their lives. I know none of you, nor Torry and I, will EVER forget him, but I still
can’t help but feel that he will be forgotten or the fact that I am a mother will be forgotten over time.
So I try to talk about Brecken as often as I can with people. I don’t get too many opportunities as I hardly
have friends in this town and don’t get to go out and interact much. I feel as though it’s hard to
talk about him with others because I think it makes them feel awkward. The reason I talk about him is
so that I can remind myself that I am a mother to a beautiful baby boy. It makes me feel so good
to be able to speak about him. To bring him up. Anything. Anything that allows me to say his
name out loud. I want to be acknowledged that I’m a mother. A woman who gave birth.
I want to let all of you know that bringing Brecken up doesn’t sadden me.
Please don’t feel awkward to talk about him. I want to talk about him!
It makes me feel good!
It makes me happy!
The worst thing you could do is not talk to me about him.
Please, don’t be afraid.