Today was a hard day.
I think as time passes, the shock of losing Kaden is beginning to lessen as reality sets in.
He’s never coming home.
I’ll never get to hold him.
That crib will never have him in it.
I’ll never get to nuzzle in his little neck folds again and kiss him all over.
He’s not going to be there when I wake up.
I’ll never see Sam chase him around.
Bella will never hold his hand again.
That was it. I changed a handful of diapers, held him a few times, never got to give him a bath, nursed him for 3 days, waited 10 more to bottle feed, and he was gone.
My heart is so heavy with missing him. Missing my twins. It’s almost unbearable to miss them all at the same time.
I can’t even look at his pictures because it hurts so.bad. I have video and the thought of watching it brings tears to my eyes. I miss him so deeply – I can’t even comprehend why we are going through this again. I have no explanation. No purpose on earth is ever going to be worth his life. Nothing that comes of this will ever, ever make me thankful for his loss or this pain.
His death changed everything. With the twins, there was at least an understanding. It was a high risk pregnancy. There were complications. Hard as it was, I got it. But I held onto that hope that if we got pregnant again, it wouldn’t be like that. I endured so, so much to get Kaden here. We all did. So much stress – physical and emotional toll on us all. All those months of waiting and wondering if I would lose him. All those ultrasounds confirming he was ok. Every week seemed unbelievable – I was almost there. I’d done it. I finally, finally let go and bought clothes, dreamed of holding him, set up his things, let myself fully fall into motherhood of a newborn again, trusted that we’d get this little boy.
I trusted. I let go. I stopped waiting for the bomb to go off.
It doesn’t matter that I might never know why. I’ll still always have that question to wrestle with. I think any mother who loses a baby does. No matter what – you always have to wonder and have the “what if’s” long after anyone else thinks you should.
This hurts worse than anything. I don’t have any right words for any of you reading who are suffering too. Just like no one can have them for me, and that’s ok. I need to do this to heal, and know that others out there get it. Just know that if you are reading this and you’re hurting too, we’re all in this together right now. That alone is so tragically, horribly comforting.