Missing You

Dear Calvin:

I can't believe it's been almost seven months since you left us. So much has happened since then, I don't know where to start. Actually, yes I do. I love you. I miss you so much some days I'm surprised I'm still able to get out of bed. I think of you everyday, some days, you're in my thoughts from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep. I must be on autopilot during those days, because my thoughts are filled with you and my longing to have you here with us. I've tried to make peace with God over what has happened to us, I've prayed, I've railed against Him, I've cried and begged for answers. I don't have an answer for what happened. All I know is that at times the guilt over what you went through is all consuming. I wonder what would have happened if we had insisted on waiting until you were a little older, a little bigger, before allowing the surgery. The doctors say you were showing signs of stress, that your heart defect was already affecting the blood pressure in your lungs. There are so many things I wish I had gotten the chance to do for you before you died. I wish I had changed your bum. Sounds silly, but after you died, I realized that I had never seen you naked, never looked at your little parts. I wish I had turned you over and patted your little bum, run my hands down your back and under you as I held you against me. I wish I had gotten the chance to nurse you. I only was able to nurse Georgia for a few days, when you died I needed antidepressants so we switched her to formula. I wasn't making much milk anyway, but I wish I had been able to hold you against me as you nursed from me. I wish I had more time with you that wasn't anxious, worried, and tearful. I wanted you to be okay so badly, but I was so afraid to get my hopes up. I know I spent much of my time holding you and crying, wasting the precious time we had being afraid. I wish I had brought Georgia down before your surgery so you could cuddle with your twin. You two spent thirty seven weeks nestled up against each other in my womb and then when you were born, all of a sudden you were apart. I regret that. More than anything I wish you could have spent time with each other, touching, feeling the familiar comfort of having her against you. When you died, I wish I had known that I could have bathed you myself, that I could have spent time with you doing what I should have done as your mother. I would have held you for hours had I known that I could have. I would have also taken more pictures, not only as you were dying but afterwards when you looked so peaceful and beautiful laying there. I'm glad I asked Dr. C to sew up your chest again. Your dad and I talk about you everyday. He misses you as much as I do, he just doesn't express his feelings as openly. We've had a rough time being without you. Our family doesn't feel complete anymore, there is an empty space in our lives and has been since you left. I cry alot. Sometimes I feel so lonely and sad that I wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy my life again. I worry that heaven is just a myth, that I won't get the chance to see you again and it scares me because the only thing holding me together somedays is the thought that I will see you when I die and go to heaven too. I went to your grave the other night. Your marker isn't installed yet but it will be soon. There's grass covering your grave now which looks so much better than it did. It's funny, but the second I get near you I fall apart. I'm glad no one else was there. It was later in the evening and the sun was setting over the lake. The view is spectacularly beautiful from where you lay. I sat down and cried and talked to you for about an hour. It bewilders me how strong the grief can be and how it comes out of nowhere at times. I feel better when I visit you although I am usually drained by the time I get home. Georgia misses your presence too. I notice sometimes that when she's upset, the only thing that will calm her is holding her close against my face. She still can't sleep well without being swaddled. I know that's from being pressed up against you while I carried you both inside me. She's cut two teeth in this past week. Everytime she achieves a milestone in her little life I think of you and wonder if you'd be doing it too....whether it be sleeping through the night, cutting teeth, or starting to crawl. I miss the possibility of you, of all you could have become. You were the most beautiful baby, I know you would have been a striking toddler and a handsome little boy. One of the first things Dr. C said to me after seeing you for the first time was "He sure is cute...". And you were. You were gorgeous. I felt so proud when I was holding you and the nurse in the ICU told me you looked just like me. I wonder if your hair would have stayed strawberry blonde like your dad's was. I've had such a hard time adjusting to life without you. I don't sleep well, I have to fight to stay focused some days just to get the basics done. I miss you so much and think about you so much, but I've never dreamt of you and it bothers me. If I could hold you just one more time, even it's only in my dreams I would be so grateful. Lorelei still doesn't understand why you aren't here with us. Last week she asked me if we could take Georgia back to the hospital and get you and bring you home instead...she knows you've died, but she doesn't understand the concept of death yet. Such a shitty thing to have to teach a three year old about. It breaks my heart that she has lost her brother and doesn't understand why. Things like this shouldn't happen to a family like us. We loved you, we wanted you, we would have done anything for you. Nothing will fill the void left when you died. No one will replace your spot in our family. As long as I live Calvin, you will be in my heart forever. I miss you my son, I wish you were here with me. Tell God that heaven better be worth all of this pain....Love mommy.