Another milestone

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Thank you so much for the outpouring of love for Will's birthday. From the coffee with his name on it, to the flowers and donations in his name, to the texts, calls and cards, it was so great to hear people speak his name and know he was remembered. It reminded me how much he is still loved and how many people are also missing him.

Will's first birthday was a milestone that I wanted so badly to embrace, but had to work so hard to see through. So many baby boys were born within a week or two of his birthday. Each month on social media I would watch these sweet mamas post beautiful monthly milestones of their precious sons and it physically made me hurt. Not because they proudly show off these gorgeous children (they should and I am so glad they do), but because it is a reminder of how much I wish Will was mine. Mine to touch. Mine to hold. Mine to care for. It's so dumb. I have 3 beautiful girls at home that I can hug and love on any time I want.  But there is a space in my heart created solely for him and that void cannot be filled by them. That part of my heart aches so badly for him.

The girls have been so generous in letting me hug them and hold them when my arms are feeling empty. I figure that unless you know better, you can't do better (occupational hazard being a teacher, I guess), so I have been trying my hardest to learn about pain and grief management to help fill this void in me. The most comforting I have found is as follows:

"Much like having an amputation, nerves in parts of your brain "rewire" themselves when they lose signals like a missing arm or missing leg. As a result, they send pain signals, a typical response when your body senses something is wrong. These "phantom pains" can last for months -even years- after a limb has been severed." 

I wonder if the same can be possible with a mother and her child once the physical bond has been severed. My arms physically ache sometimes to hold something. A baby crying makes my lungs burn. Singing at church still brings tears to my eyes. These involuntary responses make me feel so out of control and I hate that as much as I want to touch or hold a baby the physical pain each time I see one makes me not trust if my arms could actually hold them safely.

Babies A, L, Q, W, L and A all celebrated their first birthdays this month. I have prayed so much for these sweet babies and seeing them with frosting on their cheeks from their joyous smash cake celebrations makes me smile. Except for when it makes me cry. I likened it to jealousy for a really long time, but I've given that up. I just miss my boy. We have survived one more milestone. We will continue to focus on finding joy as the next milestone grows closer and pray that time will continue to heal us.