It’s not real, it really isn’t. I was driving in the car today, on the way home from getting my nails done and it hit me. Connor would be 19 tomorrow. 19 years ago I was walking the halls of Cooley Dickinson trying like hell to have him. Pacing back and forth, with that damn IV pole, just trying to get him to move along, to bring him into this world. To move time along and get on with meeting him, raising him and loving him.
Now what I wouldn’t do to turn the clock backwards, to make it run in reverse.. for just a little bit. Just to spend a little more time with him. Oh who am I kidding? I want years and years of more time with him. To get all the things that I was promised, his wedding, the grandchildren that he promised me and maybe if I was to live long enough even great grandchildren.
That is what I am most bitter about, the future that I was promised, being denied. I have learned that tomorrow is never promised, so please cherish your loved ones. All of them, even if you are mad at them at this moment. Because someday you may be in my shoes wishing and hoping that you have the time you were promised.
Having children is nothing short of allowing your heart to walk around outside of your body unchecked. Be prepared for the anguish that it brings. It comes hand in hand with the overwhelming love of parenthood. But no one tells you about all the skinned knees that you will kiss, and then the broken bones, that can be casted, and the broken hearts that you can’t do anything about. You can listen to them cry, when someone breaks their heart, offer the usual platitudes “that they are young, that there are more fish in the sea, that the person doesn’t know what they are giving up, etc, etc.” But short of keeping them in a bubble there isn’t much you can do, they need to learn, have the life experiences and figure it out on their own.
There is nothing more painful than losing a child, regardless of how or when. Whether your child is “born sleeping”, and you never really got to know them, or they died as a teenager. Those are vastly different scenarios, but the pain and the grief isn’t any different. You grieve what you don’t have, what you didn’t experience, what you are missing in all it’s connotations.
I am trying my damndest to not let my grief consume me this month. That is easier said than done. March is the month of Connor’s Birthday. March 15th to be exact. But his original due date was March 1st, so Friday was a day that I just couldn’t do much. I just kept thinking, this was the date you were originally supposed to be here. But you were so stubborn that you came in your own time, being induced, because I wasn’t sure you would ever come.
All the memories and knowledge just keep flooding my mind. He would be 19 this year. I would have a 22 year old and a 19 year old. 2 boys that would hold my heart for eternity.
He would be reminding me that
- Sloppy Joes are his favorite birthday meal
- But maybe this year he would want Tacos
- With the Guacamole that only he can make (I have been unable to recreate it)
- He would complain that his Limeade was just plain, no Tequila to make it a Margarita, because he is still to young.
- He would insist that Jordan be there. And of course I would never exclude her.
- He would remind me at least 10 times NO CAKE!
- He despised cake. In all forms. No cake, cupcakes. Nothing
- He loved Ice Cream. A half gallon of Friendly’s Black Raspberry Ice Cream and he was happy.
- He would want some kind of electronics for his birthday.
- He would be reminding me that he was grown up, even though he is still my baby.
. Most of all he would be the center of attention and loving every minute of it.❤️❤️