What I really want to write about is how I want to be able to think about my son without feeling that sharp pain of loss. You'd think I would be there by now, but it still hurts. I was thinking about how this time of the year it is all magnified. I miss him. I wish I had gotten a chance to feel his fuzzy little head underneath my chin and heard him cry just once. And wiggle-- I wish I could have seen him move, even if it had just been for a short time. I think that is one of the cruelest things about stillbirth, is that some people think it is somehow easier, because I did not get a chance to really, really know him. But I had the mourn the loss of that chance too-- on top of missing him and mourning for him and loving him.
These are the things I know Dylan heard. He listened to most of the Complete Works of Winnie the Pooh-- I was able to give him that. He heard his dads voice. He listened to many episodes of Seinfield (in utero) while I was lying down counting his movements and his kicks. I am also certain that he heard Sierra's voice. She and I talked to him daily. I hope that he heard birds and laughter and music. I hope that he heard how much we all loved him. That is probably my biggest wish other than wishing him back to us.
It's Friday night and the rest of the house is asleep. Probably kind of a bad thing for me to be left alone with my thoughts. Less than ten days until Dylan's birthday/anniversary of his death. I seriously hate the month of August. Every year J and I say we are going to just run away for the month and I wish that had been possible this year. I want to just hide out and be left alone.
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