Beneath the glow of a tree sleeps love

It has been a long, dark, impossible day.

Why?

Because I will miss everything with Aidan. All of our firsts are our firsts without him. I will never watch him take his first step, hear the word Momma come from his perfect mouth, watch him devour his first birthday cake, take his first day of school picture, cheer at his first game, get to play santa, easter bunny or the tooth fairy for the first time, scrutinize his first girlfriend, help him learn his first life lesson. I won't get to do any of these things.

Instead I will brace myself for our first Christmas without him, celebrate his first birthday at his grave, survive his due date for the first time, walk into a labor and delivery for the first time since our fateful trip.

And while I may get to do these things with my nephews or his brother/sister one day, I still won't get to do them with him.

So I talk about him, I sit in his room with his things, I decorate his spot. I know he isn't actually in any of these places. He is surrounded by glory. He is surrounded by beauty. He is waiting on me. But, I will always miss him. And these are how I express that. They are how I show a small part of my love.

Tonight I sit in our rocker. I have rocked Peyton. I have sung him the only lullaby I can remember because I used to sing it to Aidan. And now I watch him sleep beneath the glow of Aidan's Christmas tree.

And the tears come. Freely. Softly. Silently. The tears of surviving a hard week, our first holiday without, our first disagreement since August, our first night to keep one of our nephews overnight. Tears because I would do anything to have a crib beside me awaiting Aidan. Instead he is with God, awaiting my arrival one day.