When you lose a child, the little things you do can sometimes become ritual. You have to do these things in order to go on, to survive your ordeal.
Almost everything in the house is a "last time."
We're about to head down to Springfield for a weekend trip and as I grabbed the camera and the charger I thought to myself, "The last time I used the charger, was in the hospital with Sawyer."
It happens almost constantly. The last time I wore this shirt I was pregnant. The last time we ate here I was pregnant. The last time I heard that song I was pregnant.
And it goes on and on. Every day.
1 comment:
Oh yes. It's so true. And you don't try to do this. It almost would be nice if our memories would leave us alone. But, yes. That is part of this path... and with it are a lot of sighs as each "last time"moment arises.
Today, just now, I was in Wal-Mart and was assaulted by a giant baby photo - a little girl with a bow in her short, short baby hair - an advertisement for their photo studio. I tried not to look. The baby wasn't even that cute to me. But I did, and I thought, "I wonder if Gwen would be sitting up by her self now...and smiling like that." And then pain.
All yours posts above...I just read too. Mary Todd - wow. Wow. And your walk in this, and having to talk to the doctors, yes. We still have one final meeting whenever we get the finial results from the autopsy. It is so hard, all the details even as we want to know, we have to know. It is so hard.
I know you miss holding him in your belly. I also know about having two rare things. She had a rare, upon rare blood thing (they fixed it thank goodness). But, yes, we used to joke all the time that we were going to start playing the lottery. And, my favorite thing to say now, when the message of "rare" comes up is, "Oh, I believe in rare."
Anyway. Thanks for reading about Gwen. I think of you and Sawyer all the time. Hugs and love to you.
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