Forgive me today, as my thoughts are scattered. It’s a strange, hard day for us.
We are on vacation at the beach right now. We weren’t suppose to be here. There wasn’t suppose to be a summer vacation. None of the last 17 weeks were suppose to go the way they did, but they did and we perservered.
Reese, today marks 40 weeks. I don’t know if you would have been born before today or after today, but June 7th was the date I had circled the moment I took that first pregnancy test back in September. You were going to be our little June-bug—a summer baby just like your Daddy. Instead you share February with your grandfather and great-grandfather.
I’ve been dreading today since the minute I had to say goodbye to you. After today, I’m no longer mourning something that was suppose to be in the present…everything will be in the past. If that makes sense. I’ll no longer be mourning a pregnancy that was suppose to still be going on. Those nine months of my life are over. Another page turned, another chapter finished.
Everything I’ve done lately, I’ve done with the thought in the front of my mind “it wasn’t suppose to be like this”. I wasn’t suppose to be at work this summer, helping out with orientations. I wasn’t suppose to be taking long car rides or traveling outside the metro Atlanta area. There was suppose to be a car seat and baby bag in my back seat; instead there’s a dog seat cover for a puppy that we have because of you…not instead of you. Your nursery was suppose to have a crib and woodland creatures on the wall; now it’s become the room that hopefully will be something more one day. A stroller, car seat, books, and clothes all put away; all bought for you, but never used by you. The glider I thought I’d spend hours holding you in, that arrived the day you were born, is still in its box. I can’t get rid of anything—I pray everyday that little brother or little sister will read your books, wear your clothes, and play with the Peter Rabbit toy I bought you in December when you were still nice and cozy inside me.
We brought you to the beach with us. People may be weirded out by that, but there was no way I was going to let this date pass by and not have you with us. We brought your two bears as well. Before, I had visions of a beach vacation with you, watching your little chubby legs touch the ocean for the first time. I even bought you little swim trunks. I get so sad knowing we won’t ever have that, but I’m optimistic that you’ll watch over us and keep us safe when we finally get to bring little brother or sister to touch the ocean for the first time.
The days are getting easier, and things are getting better. Our relationship is stronger than ever but we still miss you like crazy. There isn’t an hour that goes by that I don’t think of you, even in my sleep.
I don’t know what tomorrow will be like, or the day after that. For the last 17 weeks, I’ve been afraid to find out. But I’m not so afraid anymore. I’ve been through one of the darkest, hardest things anyone can go through and I’ve made it out to the other side. We can do this. We have the world’s most perfect son as our guardian Angel. We can do this.
Today, I brought you out to watch the sunrise with us. It was gorgeous. I’m sure you had something to do with this. You’ve been the reason I’ve woken up with the sun everyday since September and you always will be. I love you Bub. Thank you.
