Today marks 3 months since we had to say hello and goodbye to Asher. I can’t believe it’s been that long. This month was a bit of a rough one with Mother’s day. I want to thank everyone who reached out to me on that day. It meant a lot to know that people were thinking of Asher and I on another difficult day. We were also able to participate in a 5K to remember babies that were taken too soon last Saturday. I want to thank everyone who came out and walked/ran with us in the rain to remember our son. It means so much to us.
So, how am I doing? I have good days and bad days. I still tear up or a shed a tear at some point during the day. On certain days, I cry more than others. I’ve found that there is literally some “trigger” that I encounter every day that makes me emotional. Typically, after seeing a “trigger” I am more emotional for the rest of the day. For Example:
I pass a Dollar General every day on my way to and from work. The other day on the way home for lunch I noticed those little plastic pools out front. I’ve seen them there before, passed them every day for a few weeks. But on that one day, seeing those little pools was a trigger of a memory I will never get to have with my son. When I was pregnant, I envisioned what our life would be like with Asher. I vividly remember thinking of getting one of those little plastic pools. I imagined sitting out on our deck with Asher and Murphy playing in the pool while I was off on my maternity leave. That image was taken away from us the moment his heart stopped beating. I will never get to make a memory like that with my son. That was all it took to reduce me to tears. The rest of the day I was an emotional mess ready to cry at the drop of the hat. I sat and cried in my cubicle at work, trying to hold it together to avoid breaking down in hysterics.
The moments that I realize that I will never get to do certain things with Asher are the ones that break me. I lost a whole lifetime of memories with my son. My family specifically scheduled our vacation earlier this year so that we could go while I was still supposed to be on maternity leave. I had envisioned the entire vacation with Asher there. Us swimming in the pool, him sitting in a little floaty giggling and splashing. Taking him inside to nap and having the monitor out by the pool with us. Seeing my parents and brother playing with him. Seeing Hubby sitting on the dock with Asher. All of those memories will never be. We lost them all.
I never got to make memories with Asher. The only happy ones I have with him are when he was alive inside of me and I had hope for his future. I have my memories of him after he were born but they were filled with devastation and heartbreak. We lost our ability to make happy memories with him here. Yes, I can make happy memories with him by honoring him (like the 5K we did), but I lost all of the memories that every parent gets to make with their living children. I will never get to see him go sledding down the hill in our back yard. I will never get to mark the wall with his height as he grows. I will never get to sing him to sleep. I will never get to rock him in his chair. The list of things I will never get to do with him is infinite. I never even got to see him breathe! Every time I see a child do something, I think to myself “ I will never get to see Asher do that”. It can be applied to everything that every child does.
The grief comes in waves. Some days I am ok (until I see a trigger), other days I could just cry all day when I think about Asher. I’m not just grieving the loss of my son, but I’m also grieving the loss of the entire life that I had envisioned us having with him. For the rest of my life, something will always be missing. He will always be missing. I can move forward with my life but I will never move on. Moving on implies putting him behind me and I can never do that. He will always be with me and his absence will always be felt for the rest of my life.