Two months

Oh, sweet boy, I miss you so.

I went back today and reread Stacy’s two-month post, just to see if my feelings were on target.  (And before anyone jumps forward to tell me that each person grieves differently and that I don’t need to look to Stacy or any one else to determine if the way that I am grieving is normal….I know this.  It just helps to look to a friend who has walked this road before me, m’kay?)

Saturday, we went to the zoo.  I went to the zoo the day before I was induced with Duncan, too, just to fill the hours.  I didn’t expect going back to the zoo of my childhood would be so bittersweet, but it was.  I couldn’t help but to keep thinking, “the last time I was here, I still had Duncan with me.  With me.”

Today, I have been so sad.  I’ve been so thankful that my mother-in-law has sensed this, and has let me just laze around.  I even went back to bed after I let her cook me scrambled eggs and blueberry pancakes.  But even after a few more hours of rest and a hot shower….I’m still in that quiet, sad place.

I just want it to be different.  I really wish Duncan’s story – his very life – hadn’t ended the way it did.  The closer we get to his due date – when he was supposed  to have been here – the harder it becomes that he isn’t here, and he isn’t going to ever be here.

On July 24, Jim and I will learn the results of my RPL testing.  We will be handed the information we need to make the decision about whether or not I will bear any more children.  And I can’t even get excited about the appointment because in my heart, I don’t want “another” baby – I want Duncan.

Mommy’s little Apple Jack,

I’m finally letting the world in on that little secret.  Before you were named Duncan, you were just “Itty Bitty” to the world, in the way that your big brother Seth was just “Sprout.”    But in secret, you were Apple Jack to only me.

Today, you would turn two months old.  How is that possible?  Didn’t I hold your newly born body just yesterday?

For the past few weeks, I’ve been working diligently to complete mommy and daddy’s master bedroom.  I’ve purchased new bedding, made curtains, and hung artwork.  The next step is to hang our engagement portrait over the bed.  I decided to flank either side with a picture of you and Seth.

I selected the picture of you that I want to frame, and then searched for a complimentary photo of Seth.  I chose one that Gramp-e took of him when he was just seven weeks old – just about the age you’d be today.  And as I Photoshopped the two pictures to black and white perfection, my heart grew heavy.

My sons – brothers – two boys who share a nose and a name….but nothing else.  Not a toybox or a wagon or a train set.  Seth will never teach you to jump with abandon from the ottoman to the couch; you’ll never have the opportunity to find your own hide-and-seek niches in our beautiful home.  And it’s just not fair.

Duncan, it took me so long to want you – to get used to the idea of you.  But always know that from the moment I suspected you existed, I loved you.  And I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I’m pretty sure that’s not as much as I’ll love you tomorrow.

Mommy