December 18 is a day that will never be the same in our house again. It is the day that should have been our little baby boy’s birthday. Today he would have turned three if he had made it through the pregnancy.
On this day in particular each year, I give myself permission to withdraw, feel the hurt, and ride the wave of grief that never goes away but I suppress because that’s what my family and I need in order to live our lives. We need to live. We need to make the most of every day. We owe it to Daniel and his big sister Hannah and the one that went before them to make the most of every day. Because we got to stay and they didn’t. We get the chance to live each day and they didn’t.
But, I always feel the emptiness that was their place in my heart. It will never leave me, nor do I want it to. I never want to forget them. Nobody knew them like me. Nobody felt their little legs kicking other than me. We had hopes and dreams for their futures and imagined them living in our lives with us.
So for their birthdays and anniversary’s I allow myself the luxury of grief. I feel the pain. I acknowledge all that could have been but is not. I pray for them, I feel their presence, I sleep with their special blankets. I allow myself these special days to love them like a Mother can and should love her babies.
Because that is what they were, are, and always will be to me.
Happy 3rd birthday Daniel.
We love you always and miss you so much that my heart breaks again every day.