I posted this two months after he died, but going back through the blog entries I came across it and decided to repost it. I still feel like this letter a lot.
It is almost 3:15 am which is kind of funny because not only is that supposed to be the “devil’s hour” but it was also one of your favorite feeding times.
I have had a very difficult day today. I got a lot of work done but I broke down mid-afternoon and no anxiety medication that I could find could shake off the sadness. I ended up sleeping in my sleeping bag in your bedroom for the entire evening, missing Sam completely.
Tomorrow we are going to the Sigmon’s Farm to ride the hay wagon and pick out our pumpkins. I remember when Sam went for the first time. He was a little nervous but he enjoyed it. I was looking forward to taking you for the first time, too.
I have thought about you a lot today. I wanted to go out and enjoy this beautiful weather but I felt very disconnected to what was going on outside. Someone asked me if it was like a panic attack, but it wasn’t like that at all. It was more like watching a movie unfold through a screen that I couldn’t reach into. I could see the outside world, but it was as elusive to me as if it didn’t really exist.
We went shopping for Christmas presents the other day and it was sad that I couldn’t put anything in layaway for you. Your daddy and I had such fun picking out your pacifier and your diaper bag and little diapers. I was looking forward to buying your presents this year even though everyone would probably say that you would be too little to enjoy them.
Last night Sam, your brother, said that he missed you and that he was sad. Sometimes he hugs me and asks me if I miss my “baby” and even though I protest and tell him that he’s still my baby we both know what he means.
I remember that when you were born they put you in my arms and you were crying and I promised you that things would get better. I am sorry that I was not able to keep that promise. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most and that I couldn’t protect you and keep you safe.
But I am glad that I did not listen to all of those people who said that I shouldn’t hold you that much and that I should put you down more. I spent almost every waking second holding you and cuddling with you and I wouldn’t take a single one of those back. From now on, I will always listen to my instincts and follow what I think is best, not what everyone else tells me.
You would be three months old now and the only thing I can compare that to was when Sam was three months old. At that time he was sitting up and laughing a lot. He liked his swing and he liked to walk out to our pond and see the ducks. Sometimes I put him in his portable Moses basket and laid him beside me while I weeded the flowers. I wonder what you and I would be doing at this point. Would you be sitting next to me in your swing while I write? Would you want to be held all the time? Would you like the hayride tomorrow or would you cry? I don’t know.
I went to my astrologer yesterday and he told me that you were an old soul, but I already knew that. He also said that I would meet you again in this life and that it’s possible that you would be sent to me as another child. Or maybe you will send me another one. I will take that as a gift if you do.
I miss you very much and think about you every minute of every day. I am sorry that more people didn’t get to know your sweet smile and get to hold you. I feel lucky that even though you were only in the outside world for six weeks, I got those nine months with you that nobody else got. Sometimes, I felt like you were all mine and part of me is even glad that I didn’t have to share you with many people. It made the time that we had even more precious.
I know that you have better things to do than to watch over us and I know that wherever you are you’re not a baby. How unfair that would be, to remain a baby! But I believe that we will meet again and when we do I am certain that part of us will recognize each other on some level.
I love you and will never forget you.