Three years ago on 9/9/15, Baron came into this world-5 weeks earlier than expected-and made me a mother again.
My husband shed tears as I pushed with all the energy I had left more than 24 hours after I was admitted to the hospital. His little shoulders were stuck as he was descending down the canal while I was begging him to come out safe and sound.
He was breathing a little fast so he was monitored in the NICU. It felt like eternity waiting for him to be brought to our room. I cried… I prayed for him to be okay…
Baron lived life with us for 2 months and 5 days… I used to take him on walks around the neighborhood to get out of the house. I remember feeling so at peace outside with him. We had our girl and we had our boy. Life felt complete.
I have memories of him that I demand my mind not to forget-picture a grieving (hysterical) mother on her knees begging for her child to come back–I did that. And now I do that all over again with great fear that my memories will lose details, that they will become fuzzy. As time ticks by… I fear I will lose all that I have left of him. Memories.
I close my eyes and beg my mind to remember what those hours and days felt like with him in my arms… I crave to smell his scent…with my lips kissing his tummy… his chest against my chest… the way his grunts sounded like close to my ears… I want to be smiling while I stare at his every little detail.
Then I ask myself to picture what life would be like with him now. Who would he be at three years old? What would he look like? Would I be working again? How would sissy be treating her brother? I pull up pictures on Instagram of friends with little boy’s that were born around Baron’s birthday and begin to fantasize… the emotions are overwhelming… and here I sit crying again writing a new post to try and deal with my loss.
I want to celebrate my son’s birthday… I want to watch him blow out candles and stuff cake into his mouth. I want to see him run around with excitement because he got his favorite toy for his birthday. I want to hear his giggles while he plays with friends. I want to smell his stinky feet after the party is all over (gross I know, but he’d still be small enough at 3 before he had BIG kids feet).
BUT this won’t happen… so my fantasy ends.
And I ask myself to figure out a way to celebrate the life that he DID live… to celebrate that he IS forever my son. One year we did a butterfly release, and another we did bubbles… we always get a cake, bring balloons and I put out a new birthday bouquet for his vase there at the cemetery. I put out the photo album I made of his life to look through and we light a candle.
Maybe this year we will donate to a SIDS foundation or grief support foundation in his name to help fund research and help others. How can I mother him while he is no longer on Earth? What more can I do as his mother?? I now feel inadequate… that what I do in his honor is never enough.
What have y’all done to celebrate your child’s life on their birthday?? Feel free to leave comments.