Sunday, October 4, 2009

Constant Reminders

As usual, we were 5 minutes late for church today. I hurriedly slipped into my seat, grabbing my bible and notebook to begin to take notes for today's sermon. When I slowed down to begin to listen to Paul, I couldn't help but notice an infant car seat in the row in front of me. A moment later, the mom pulled a beautiful, very new baby girl from the seat. She placed her over her shoulder and this little ones eyes met mine. The pain of what I've lost came flooding back. Tears began to spill and I knew that there was no way I'd make it through service with this baby staring back at me. Bob and I moved for the remainder of service.

Robert has been gone for over a year and I still get caught in these moments. I'm not sure when they'll hit, usually sneaking up on me when I least expect it. I don't know why it hit me so hard this morning. Perhaps I'm emotionally strained with October 15th Raleigh coming up? Maybe it was the look I saw on Bob's face as he sat staring at this baby girl; part sadness, part longing. 

It makes me wonder how I'll feel ten years from now or even longer. I've talked to so many women who've experienced a loss years ago, but still live with the pain of losing a baby. How they may look up when they hear a name being called; their child's name. They wonder how their life would have been different had their baby been here with them still. I believe that God made mother's different. There is an instant bond that begins to take place when a women knows that she is pregnant. And an inimitable pain when that baby is gone. A mother's heart does not forget.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Capturing what I've lost

We have a DVD of photos from a session we had taken at Juno Beach, FL when Mason was nine months old. Mason was digging through our DVD's a few nights ago and insisted that we watch it as a family. As I sat watching the beautiful photos flash across the screen, I instantly realized that Robert would be the same age as Mason when those photos were taken. 

I wondered how Robert may have looked by now. Would he have Mason and Bob's same chocolate brown eyes, or would he have his momma's blue eyes? Would he be getting ready to walk? Would I have still been nursing Robert? Would he be completely in love with his older brother, Mason? 

So as I sat holding my beautiful, healthy four year old son in my arms, I found myself overcome by the grief of not having Robert here with us. Robert has been gone for over 13 months and there still isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about him. I miss my son.