Thursday, December 31, 2009

New Year

It's the New Year. We didn't think that it would be like this. Your Grandmother's birthday was New Year's Eve, it has been for 54 years now. I thought that you might have been born on New Year's Day, the day after your Grandma was born. Your sister was born the day after your Grandpa was born. He was born the last day of April and she was born the first day of May. The entire time that I was pregnant with you I thought that the same would happen with you and your Grandma. I thought that you would match. The last day and the first day. An ending and a beginning. A new life starting on a new day, a new year. But I was so wrong. I thought that there would be a pattern in our family. I wish I could have somehow shown you that pattern and willed your little body to follow it.
You were so nice to me while you were growing inside of me. I never got sick with you. You didn't kick as hard as your sister. You didn't push into my ribs. You were calm. I wanted to meet you and see if your calm would last. I never imagined that we would never see you move. Never blink your eyes. Never make a sound. People say that they have such good babies when they don't cry all of the time. How I long to hear you wail night after night about nothing at all. Maybe that's why my tears have no end, I'm crying the cry of a baby. And nothing here can soothe me.
Night, night Frost.
Mama loves you.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Thank yous

Today we said thank you to the nurses. Those women were very strong for us when you came. They were the ones who cleaned you. They were the ones who dressed you. They were the ones who handed your tiny body to me and your daddy. They wrapped you up with the gentlest touch and photographed you through a teary lense. They silently watched as we sobbed and cherished you. I don't know where they find such bravery, my body quivers at the mention of tragedy in the news, to witness it often, I can't imagine. Your birth will not continue to be our tragedy, I will find something beautiful in it for you.
I made a blanket for you, I hadn't finished it yet when you left. It is almost done. I have wept into it. I have let my milk bleed into it. I have rocked it and held it to my heart. It is soft and I pretend. It is what I have.
Night, night Frost.
Mama loves you.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

December 18, 2009

You were born December 18, 2009. I don't know exactly when you died. We named you Frost. You were our baby boy. You were our dream. You are not here. So I will write the story of our love for you here. I will tell you about our dreams for you. Even though I can't see or touch you, I can feel you. You were ours and you were real. These aches I feel seem as though they will be endless, but I will smile again for you. I will heal my heart for you, I will learn for you, I will love for you.
The tears I shed on your tiny cheeks are with you, along with the kisses I gave to your forehead. Your tiny movements that filled my belly now live in my heart, and will forever. We are still together, just differently. I have to tell myself that. We see you in everything, things that you never had a chance to see, hold, taste. The snow that came a week after you, the snow that came on Christmas. How could we not think that it was a gift from you? From our little Frost. I look for you everywhere.
Night, night Frost, I love you.