Six

Waking up on November 22 is always heart wrenching.  It was on this day, six short years ago, that I delivered, held and fell in love with our stillborn son Matthew.  I had a long, gruesome and painful labor and delivery, we held him for an hour, and then we went home.  Without him.  I laid in bed and cried for three days straight.  I had all of the usual postpartum symptoms.  But the nursery next door was empty.



And then, four desolate days later, I got out of bed, got dressed and tiptoed into John’s room.  I watched him sleep – a sight more perfect than I ever could have imagined before becoming a mommy - so that I could be the first one to see him wake on his second birthday.  I will always, always credit that sweet, precious child, for saving a part of me that might have been lost forever.  If I didn’t have him to wake up to that day, I’m not sure that I could have.  Or would have. 



Just one year later, after a tumultuous and grief riddled pregnancy, we welcomed darling Whit into our lives.  Another immense blessing, and a son we might have never known had we not lost Matthew.



I walk every day with the loss of my little one lingering in the corners of my mind, and it is that exact sorrow that has brought me so much joy.  I know how precious life is.  I know what a miracle life is.  And I celebrate it every.single.day with the two children I am lucky enough to have with me here on earth.  Yes, we go over the top and sure, sometimes we are just plain out of control.  But if I don’t fill their days with love and joy and fun and laughter, who will?  It was what I was put here to do.
 
My cup runneth over.
xoxo