A 3 Month-Old Heartache

The 25th marked three months. Three months since the first and last time that we saw our baby boy. Instead of a three month old baby, I have a three month old heartache.

We are supposed to have a living baby boy. He would've rolled over by now. He would be smiling, no doubt. The 3-6 months outfits would be fitting his little body. We would be searching for day cares as I search for a job and Lyla starts school. Our days and nights would be full of both joy and stress.

But none of that is true.

Time is marching on, and I am thankful for that, but I feel stuck. I feel like a fish out of water. I flop around every which way to find happiness and relief. I spend my days enjoying my family and planning for the future--a future without our Wyatt. Sometimes I get close enough to the water to get a big gulp, and I'm okay for a little while, but at the end of the day, I am still on the shore longing to get back into the water.

My heart still constricts with anxiety at the sight of new babies and glowing mothers. I can't breathe. I want MY baby. People share their condolences and offer hugs, but in the back of their minds I know they are truly thinking, "Thank goodness that didn't happen to me." It's hard not to be selfish in this world. I feel selfish for thinking, "Why? Why do some of us get slammed this way in this life and others don't?" I feel selfish for wanting my own baby...how ironic is that?

I had two children.

I have two children.

Hmm.. How do you explain the loss of a baby who died before his first breath? Before his first cry? Before his first kiss? There was no car accident or a childhood illness.

I am asked quite often from strangers just trying to make conversation. I don't have a scripted answer. Usually I just gage my answer on who it is that is asking and where we are. My answer to the cashier at Wal-mart- "Yes, she's my only child." *sting* (I'm so sorry, Wyatt, mommy didn't mean to say it. I just didn't want the nosey people behind me to huff and puff because I was taking too long.) The answer I provided to the lady giving me a facial just yesterday when she simply asked if I had any children..." I do. I have a little girl who will be 5 in September, and a little boy who would be three months old, but he's no longer with us." Silence (oh, how I'm use to the silence). We were in a private room, so I felt the need to acknowledge my sweet boy. We HAVE two children.


Rainbows, butterflies, airplanes, the wind, and the penny jar challenge....why do I try so hard to mention my son's name and existence at every given chance? Because it's all I have. I can't DO anything for my son. I can't give him a bath. I can't feed him a bottle. I can't change his diaper. I cannot kiss him. I cannot hold him. All I can do is love him.

I blog about him. I got a tattoo in his memory. I visit his grave frequently. We have created a memorial garden in our yard for him. He has a chest full of things to honor his memory. I am currently trying to put together a 5K for our Wyatt (more details later). I speak of him often. These are a few things that I have found I CAN do for our son.

Each one of those things is a replacement for something I cannot do for him. A substitute for bath time, story time, playtime, and nap time.

I am terrified that I will eventually run out of things to do for him.