Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Happy birthday in heaven, my sweet boy. Mommy loves you very much, and thinks of you every single day. You are always on my mind and in my heart. I still ache for you, and want you here more than anything in this whole world. I wish I could hold you, and kiss you, and tell you how precious you are to me. I hope you hear my prayers every night thanking God for your presence in my life. Two years after losing you, now I feel peace when I think of you. I am thankful you never had to hurt, you never had to feel pain, or hunger, or cold. You are such a constant presence of love and light in my life, and I feel blessed. Thank you for watching over us.
Looking back on the last two years, it was such a long, hard journey to get where I am now. So much has happened, and so much since I posted last. I still miss my son, but mixed in with that is a sincere feeling of peace and serenity each time he crosses my mind.
On June 27, 2011, I gave birth to Beau's little brother Maxwell James, after a very long, scary, and complicated delivery. Max was born alive and screaming, which was music to my ears. After I had recovered enough to hold Max, the first words I spoke to him were, "Hi Max. You have a brother in heaven and his name is Beau." Then I may have passed out under the florescent lights. I am clearly not good at having babies.
I can appreciate my second son for who he is, with the knowledge that chances are, he would not exist without the loss of Beau. Max is a happy and healthy 8-month old boy, full of motion and laughter. Even now, when I check on him while he's sleeping, I can hardly believe my eyes when I can see his chest rise and fall with each breath. I must kiss Max at least a thousand times a day, I can't seem to get enough of his alive-ness. I won't even delve into my dark thoughts of "if anything ever happens to Max".....because, as Nemo's dad asked Dorie, "How do you know nothing bad will happen?" And Dorie said matter of factly, "I don't!" For some reason that's comforting. I still have fears, probably more than the average person, but I'm trying to life more like Dorie, instead of anxiety-ridden Marlin, Nemo's dad.
The joy of Max does not take away the pain of losing Beau. It still feel a vague, general "I'm missing something" feeling. I've lost part of me by losing Beau, but I'm finding more of myself along the way. Happy birthday in heaven, sweet Beau. Your family loves you dearly.