...You all have lied
Who told me Time would ease me of my pain*
I know what it is to fear losing your child.
I lived that fear, albeit for a few months. Every moment of every day, when every cramp, ache, wince sent me searching for answers even as I drowned in a sea of anguish.
I know what it feels like to have that fear come true.
Today, twelve years later, I still remember him, so like his older brother, so perfect in every way, no one could have said he was not whole.
I remember holding him knowing I had only a short while to love him.
I remember touching his little hand and feeling his fingers grasp mine with a strength that was astonishing, almost as if he hoped I would let him stay. His little face all scrunched up, eyes squeezed tightly shut, little tongue sticking out of his lips, snuffling a little, all warm and cuddly against my breast.
I remember holding him, hot tears falling on his little face, and his instinctive reaction to them.
I remember kissing my tears off his face, others falling thick and fast to take their place.
I remember stroking his thick black hair, so like his brother's, off his forehead. He snuffled a little more, I remember.
Then I remember the choked little gurgle he gave, as he gasped out his last breath.
I remember his little finger clutching mine, as if he didn't want to ever let go. His heartbeat stilled even as I hoped against impossible hope for a miracle that would never happen.
But most of all, I remember him changing from warmth to ice in my arms within the space of twenty minutes.
That's how long he lived before he died in my arms. That's how long I got to hold my son before they took him away from me.
I still remember him. Every moment of every day, he lives on in a small corner of my heart. He's gone, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.
And somewhere deep inside, at the oddest of moments, like now, the grief of his loss still hurts.
I have lost a child, to death.
I understand what it must feel like to think of losing your children, albeit to life.
I know what it is to lose someone you love, even if you were destined to only love them for a short while.
I know what it is to grieve.
*Sonnets: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Who told me Time would ease me of my pain*
I know what it is to fear losing your child.
I lived that fear, albeit for a few months. Every moment of every day, when every cramp, ache, wince sent me searching for answers even as I drowned in a sea of anguish.
I know what it feels like to have that fear come true.
Today, twelve years later, I still remember him, so like his older brother, so perfect in every way, no one could have said he was not whole.
I remember holding him knowing I had only a short while to love him.
I remember touching his little hand and feeling his fingers grasp mine with a strength that was astonishing, almost as if he hoped I would let him stay. His little face all scrunched up, eyes squeezed tightly shut, little tongue sticking out of his lips, snuffling a little, all warm and cuddly against my breast.
I remember holding him, hot tears falling on his little face, and his instinctive reaction to them.
I remember kissing my tears off his face, others falling thick and fast to take their place.
I remember stroking his thick black hair, so like his brother's, off his forehead. He snuffled a little more, I remember.
Then I remember the choked little gurgle he gave, as he gasped out his last breath.
I remember his little finger clutching mine, as if he didn't want to ever let go. His heartbeat stilled even as I hoped against impossible hope for a miracle that would never happen.
But most of all, I remember him changing from warmth to ice in my arms within the space of twenty minutes.
That's how long he lived before he died in my arms. That's how long I got to hold my son before they took him away from me.
I still remember him. Every moment of every day, he lives on in a small corner of my heart. He's gone, but not forgotten. Never forgotten.
And somewhere deep inside, at the oddest of moments, like now, the grief of his loss still hurts.
I have lost a child, to death.
I understand what it must feel like to think of losing your children, albeit to life.
I know what it is to lose someone you love, even if you were destined to only love them for a short while.
I know what it is to grieve.
*Sonnets: Edna St. Vincent Millay
