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Things I wish I didn’t know, and a few I hope I don’t forget

June 29, 2010

Michael,

My biggest fear is forgetting you, or things about you. I know that time will soften the sharpness of grief and pain, and fade the memories I have of you. But I don’t want them to fade…I wish those memories faded because you replaced them with new ones everyday.

I remember how I would be so frustrated with colic…it drained me, made me cranky, and not fun to be around.  Now, I’m thankful that I had those extra moments with you, in the still of the night, rocking your peaceful little self while you slept in my arms.

I remember being so upset that my body was getting so sick, that it was dangerous for you. When you came early, I was upset that I had done something wrong. Now, I’m thankful for the extra day’s we had with you. Thankful that we were given more time, when we didn’t know we’d need it.

I remember how giving you a bath, would be the only way I could calm you from the colic. Once your bum hit the water, all crying ceased, all tears left your face.  You would wiggle around in the water, until it was up to your chin, and then you’d settle in the warmth, and gnaw on your fist, or the wash cloth.  Soon enough, a smile would light up your face, and you would make your happy noises.  You loved the water…

I remember when you’d wake me up in the morning around Five am, and not want to go back to sleep until almost ten am. If I did get you to sleep before then, you’d only sleep for 45 mins, to an hour. Did you think you’d miss life, little one? I wonder.

You were so curious about what went on around you. You could stare at yourself in the mirror after your baths, and just look.  You looked at the bottles I had lined up, full of colors and shapes, trying to figure them out.

I remember how so demanding you were, when you wanted something, you wanted it yesterday.  I miss that.

I loved the way your whole face lite up when you saw your Daddy. He was so scared you didn’t like him.  You loved him…

I remember how you hated having your diaper changed, or getting undressed for a bath, and then dressed after. I made everything a game of peek a boo for you, and you started to really dig it. Who’s playing peek a boo with you now, Monkey butt?

I remember that you loved to sleep on my chest. It was your favorite place to sleep. I can still feel your weight and soft skin on mine. You started to hold onto my necklaces, so that I wouldn’t put you down in your crib. Smarty.

I remember how you loved the Veggie Tails sing a longs, because I would sing. You loved to dance with me, and hearing me sing. I would have made you deaf!

I remember how you’d watch Finian walk by, and what face you’d make when he was too close.  I’m not sure you were to enthusiastic with that cat.

I remember how I would go through your clothes, find the ones you wore when you were in the NICU, and be amazed that you were doing so well. You taught me how to be your mom.

I remember how small you were, when we first met in the NICU. I couldn’t believe you had been in me. You were so beautiful and perfect, I remember thinking that. Must have been the drugs! 😛

Of course, I remember the moments every mother wishes she could go back and change. Like when I got mad at you, or would swat your bum. Who swats a babies bum?!  I try not to think to long on those memories. I would be glad for those to fade.

My arms don’t remember you anymore. They are empty of your weight.

I remember the problems we had with your formulas. I don’t think you liked them, and I don’t blame you. Formula smells BAD!

You LOVED carrots, applesauce and rice cereal, sweet potatos, green beans. You would get so excited, when you saw the spoon and bowl.

I even remember your poop. Sometimes it would make the eyes water!

I remember you, and don’t want to forget you.

I learned a few things after your death, son.

The police aren’t always nice to people.

The pocess of picking out an urn for a 5 month old, really takes  a toll on me.

I couldn’t go through your pictures and pick which ones I wanted to show at your memorial. I couldn’t NOT see every single one of them.

I didn’t know what true pain and sorrow were.

I didn’t know how much a mothers love could endure and survive through.

I didn’t know how hard it could be to see the sweet life absent from your body.

I didn’t know that Grief would become my every day reality.

I didn’t know how hard it would be to wait for the medical examiners results.

I didn’t know how difficult and heart wrenching it would be to see the outfit that was cut from your body. Or to see the blankets that used to comfort you in sleep.

I didn’t know this, and still wish I didn’t.  I want to give this pain to someone else, anyone else. I would like to have one precious moment without my sorrow, without my grief.

That won’t happen until I’ve passed on from this temporary home, and into Heaven.

All my love Mickey,

Your heartbroken Mommy

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. Mom permalink
    June 30, 2010 3:57 am

    *****
    incense is rising to the Father for all of us!

  2. Karen permalink
    July 4, 2010 8:48 am

    Peggy
    When I read your posts I feel your grief! I wished by feeling it I could take it from you for even a few moments. Hugs and prayers
    Karen

    • July 7, 2010 5:35 pm

      I wish it could be taken away as well, Karen, but I wouldn’t wish you to feel it for me. Hugs and love back.

  3. Kristen permalink
    July 29, 2010 12:08 am

    He sounds like he was doing alot more than my lil man was at 5 months. I am so grateful you had that extra time with him too =)
    I am so saddened for all that you have had to endure, and live through. I was reading books on grief today, trying to hold onto ANYTHING I could learn that I might be able to relay to help or ease what you and Angie are going through, although I know enough from being a mother, experiencing the depth and breadth of love you feel for your child, that its a wound that will always be raw, always wish to be erased and righted, and never be fair. I learned that the worst fear of women who have lost a child is forgetting, I learned different stages, I learned that people who go through trauma/grief have something in common…that no matter how much time has past, something can open that wound and start the wave of uncontrollable emotions all over again, I realized that the things I have gone through and that always crop up and send me into a rollercoaster all over again…and worse that I never seem to be TRULY “over” or :healed from” are sadly what you and Angie will also have to bare for the rest of your life too, and with the weight of what you are carrying…I was hoping that it somehow was eased more, over time, But any loss that has to do with our children could never stop short of leaving us without the best part of ourselves. There are no words of comfort, I have nothing to give you but my friendship and hope one day I see you smile, It wont be the smile or joy that Michael gave you, nothing can duplicate that joy. I know that. But I hope to show you, that maybe if someone walks beside you, or is there long enough, maybe the world or each day wont be AS heavy or difficult.

    You are in my daily prayers for peace and comfort each day you walk on Earth…

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