Today I took time to do stuff with the kids. I helped Mikey with his homework, we ate dinner together, Caroleigh and Mike helped me bake some paleo cookies, we did story time. We also picked up everything and I vacuumed, so definitely more productive.
And then they go to bed and I feel so damn sad. And maybe that is why I don't do it. I sit here and think about my one baby I will never do anything with. I will never hold him again, he will never listen to me read stories. I will not get to kiss his booboos or hear his laugh. He is nothing. He is just a dream, and sometimes a nightmare.
I never got to really even feel him move that much because of my placenta. It was always a wondering if that was him or not. I have nothing good to hold on to and remember him by, just regrets of things i can never change. I will never know why he died. I will never know anything. And I can't wrap my mind around that. He is just gone and gone and gone. He is nothing. Nothing but a boy in a box. A dead box, barely a memory.
I wish he had lived just a little longer, been born and I could have seen him, with his cute cheeks and his eyes, which I am sure were beautiful. Just a few more weeks and he could have lived, he could have been born and lived. I wish I knew what happened so I could know how to keep it from happening again.
Sometimes I think I want another baby. And then I know I can't. I don't know what happened to Colm, it could happen again. And so along with my baby I mourn the chance to have the birth I have always creamed of having. To have my wonderful midwives there with me, to have my just born baby placed on my chest. To hold it wiggling and squirmy, warm and soft and wonderful. I will never experience that sensation, because I am much to terrified to go through it again.
So being with my living children reminds me of everything I will never have with Colm. And I don't want to do it because I don't want to be sad. Doing nothing is easier.