Friday, June 1, 2012

Bridging the gap

There is this gap between me and you. It is my empty arms. It is his headstone. It is the blessing that you don't have to understand what it is like on this side.

There are things I know. Things that have forever changed and I know without a shadow of a doubt.

  • I will see Aidan again one day.
  • You love me.
  • You wish the pain could go away.
  • You wish there was something you could do.
  • It hurts you to watch me hurt.
  • I will always miss him.
  • Time goes on. Not one person's life was altered like mine was by this. I can't hold that against anyone.
  • In the same breath, you can't hold it against me because I'm not where you think I should be.
  • There are days that are harder than others.
  • I want nothing more than to be a mom.
  • No child will ever replace Aidan.
Then are things that I do not know. Some I may learn. Others will always be a mystery.

  • What color were his eyes?
  • Would they have crinkled like mine when he smiled?
  • Was his cry soft or was it a wail?
  • When I will be ready to try again. Not because I am afraid of replacing Aidan. Or that I'm not ready to have a baby. But, because I don't know when I will trust my body enough. I don't know when I will be able to handle the grief, the fear, the hormones or the bed rest.
  • What it feels like to bring your first born home.
  • When I will get to join that inner circle and not feel like an outsider.
  • When I won't have to fake it till I can make it.
  • What it feels like to not have people afraid to say his name or see his perfect face.
  • What it is like to just be. To just be at peace. Calm. Not in the midst of a storm.
  • What is like to feel truly safe.
  • What is like to have a child look at you and say Momma.
It's coming up on nine months. Some say that's way to long to still be grieving. To me? It feels like yesterday. I still wake up reaching for my pregnant belly. I still dream of him alive. I wake up in cold sweats reliving labor. Reliving picking out his casket as I held him in my arms. I can still smell him. I sit at his spot and tell him things I can't tell anyone else.  

At the same time, I get up each morning. I work. I live this life I didn't choose. I do my best. I am trying to find a balance between our old lives and this new one. Sometimes that just isn't good enough. Sometimes, no matter what step I take, it isn't the right one. So I'm afraid to take one at all.

And while, to the outside world it may not seem like I am moving forward. Or that I'm not getting over it quick enough.

I'm trying. I'm doing the best I can. I will never get over it. And each day is another step. It may not be some gigantic step that is visible to you, but it is big enough. I am attempting to bridge the gap between us.

1 comment:

  1. You said everything I haven't been able to perfectly. It's those tiny little inchings we do with our toes because we are too tired, too scared, too grieved to pick up the whole foot that is forward movement. And don't ever forget this, YOU ARE A MOMMY! You are Aidan's mommy.


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