Normal?

It is 4 am. I spent the last 4 hours in a fitful sleep, dreaming about someone dropping Ben, resulting in his death. I got up to use the bathroom and heard him fussing, so I went in to give him his pacifier. It took everything in me to not take him out, snuggle him, nurse him, rock him....

I cry every day. Is that normal? It has been two months. Should it have stopped by now? I cry from regret, guilt, fear,  and shame...but mostly just because of memories and the "what if"s. What if we had different door knobs? What if we had bought the house I liked with no pool? What if Bailey had been inside-would she have rescued him? What if Will worked an 8-5 job, or didn't work that night?

I smell his hair, I feel his soft skin when I close my eyes. It is a blessing and a curse. I can hang my arm over the bed and pretend his pudgy little hand is in mine. I try to remember how beautiful his hazel eyes were, so big and round,  with specks of gold to make them sparkle a little extra. I hear his baby brother laugh, and I can pretend it is my Eli,  normal, breathing,  ALIVE.

But then I remember he is not. He is dead. I picked out his pure white casket. I picked out flowers and clothes. I placed the pacifier he drowned with in his right hand, cold, and pale and stiff. I tucked Mickey Mouse under his left arm. He slept with him every night. I touched his cold, hard forehead, his still-soft hair, his rigid, puffed-up chest. His calves still felt somewhat normal, soft...his skin looked the same in some places. His chin looked droopy and his eyes were flat and sad, like he had no eyes under the lids at all. He didn't look like my beautiful boy.

I know the truth about him. He has a new body in Heaven. He is perfect now. No fear, no sadness, no pain. I'm sure he's having a wonderful time. So why doesn't that bring me more comfort? Why am I so sad? Why does it feel like my cheeks are going to split right off of my face, like I'm made of porcelain?  Why is there still a deep aching in my chest? 

I birthed him. I nursed him. I carried him. For 2 years,  I was his food source,  his guide in life, his best friend and playmate, his other half. I held his hand. I rubbed his back. I bathed his body. I brushed his teeth. I caressed his face and hair while he fell asleep. I dressed him and put on his shoes. I changed hundreds of diapers. I cheered for him. I worried about him. I researched how to best care for him. I TRIED for him.

I did my best. I couldn't keep him. I miss him every moment of every day. It never abates, never ceases. I'll never be normal again.

Friday, August 16th, 2013