Day 4

Heaven's Visiting Hours

My days seems to start off okay. I'm waking with energy, I'm laughing throughout the day, and I'm talking about you when it seems appropriate. Most people aren't quite sure how to talk to a young mother who has no baby to show off. But really, I guess that is okay because when I am drawn to talk about you, it isn't something good for casual conversation. I need people to really hear me. I need people who aren't afraid to ask me hard questions and then wait for the hard answers. I don't need someone to offer anything that can make this better. There is no better. You, baby, are my heart and soul, and I choose to share you only with the few that can love you as I have. We miss you so much.

Daddy happened to run into a family who had a new crying baby. He managed to leave them before breaking down and wondering where his crying baby was. We long to hear your cried. We long to feel your warm body in our arms.

I often feel like I am floating through time and space, and the only thing that exists is before you and after you. Foolishly, if I were to have started time, it would have begun the day you were born. Can I say "born"? Does it count if you didn't take a breath? I don't know. Please come back. Please! I'm crying for you like it could fix something. I cry and I cry real tears. Tears that stain the pages I write on.

Crying has become a daily expectation. Under my eyes, I have tender sores from rubbing my constant tears away. I'm not sure my tears honor you, but when I think about you, even just for a second, it's as if my body knows no other way than to let out physical signs of longing for something so real. When I start crying, it doesn't stop. I have found that each crying episode is unique but has similar patterns. At first, I cry small tears that wipe away quickly. And then, without much more effort, I cant breath. I am gasping for a clear breath. Often. those breaths don't come. Instead, I have learned what it sounds like to hear myself sob. My weeping is deep and low but short. I often hold my hands over my eyes because my tears flow and flow and flow, and I think maybe I can curl up into myself to hide away. I knew there would be a lot of crying after we had you. I just thought it would be you instead of me.

How can I experience such depth of grief but yet still beam in loving adoration when I get a chance to talk about you? I have your pictures on my phone and I often catch myself gazing at you in wonder and awe. Almost like you were a small glance of heaven that I happen to capture on film and then you were gone. Did you really exist or were you more like a passing angel who came to reassure me that life was beautiful and precious and worth living, even if it is impossibly hard sometimes? Your beauty is overwhelming. I only wish I could have been in its presence a while longer. If heaven has visiting hours, I will find them and be there.

This time with you has been so good for me. I realize it must be strange to others, but where else can a mother expect to be found than with her baby? I could feel a strong pull just to sit here with you. I wish it were a mistake. I wish I was visiting your grave after your full life. I wish you were visiting mine.

I don't know what to be without you. I had cleared my schedule to be your mom. Just your mom. That's all I wanted. Where are you baby? Why were you so perfect for me and yet unable to stay?

I only have a few more days in this place. I will miss and long for this time where I sit as close as I can to you. I know life must go on. I don't want to admit such harshness as that. I don't want to forget you, even for a second. I made Daddy promise that we would talk about you every day. We will, baby. You are everything we stand for. Please forgive me for leaving you in this cold ground. I feel you here but feel like maybe I'm buried too. If you ask, I will stay beside you. I don't want to leave.

If I could, I would kiss your round cheeks.

I love you,
Mommy