The other night, when I was putting Seth down for bed, I asked him where Jesus was at. This question has now become something that I regularly ask him at bedtime, and he will point to the sky, wave to Jesus, and then I’ll say, “Jesus is in your heart, too, honey”, and he’ll pat his little chest where his heart is and then pat mine. It is absolutely precious every single time that it happens, and I don’t ever want him to outgrow these special moments that we have together.
Last night, as we were waving to Jesus, I told Seth that brother was up in heaven with Jesus, too. And I guess it hit me like a tons of bricks.
Again.
This is my reality.
One angel in heaven, and one here on earth with me in my arms. Seth will always know about his big brother Aaron as he grows up, but my heart is hurting as I try to think of how best to explain everything to a little child. Then my mind’s eye sees the two of them playing together and laughing, and I think about how different life would be if I had my two boys by my side.
This post is almost a second-part to last week’s blog. It wasn’t planned that way, but it worked out pretty well that these are back to back. The point of this post is to give you a glimpse into the life of someone who’s lost a huge part of their heart, and what that looks like 2.5 years down the road.
Months after Aaron died, I was still crying nearly every day. What was the point in living if my baby- who was created in love and by love- had died? It’s almost like I had this being of pure, vulnerable, undefiled, glowing love that was a part of me that I loved with my whole heart, that was given to me to nurture and cherish and show all the amazing things that the world had to offer, that had faded and died unexpectedly. Almost like an artist who puts his whole entire heart and soul into his artwork. He is so proud of it that he is beaming and glowing with pride from the inside out. He hangs it up in a gallery for all to see because he is so proud of his accomplishment. While the artist is admiring his work, the most gruesome, terrible critic comes and throws black paint on it and slashes it with a knife repeatedly and walks away with no explanation. How do you get over that?
The real answer? You DON’T ever get over it. That was your entire heart and soul on display. And that’s how I feel. Empty without my son, with a gaping hole left in my heart to prove it. You don't ever get over the loss of a child, especially your own.
I really don’t like it when people ask me when we’re going to have another baby. It really bothers me. That decision is between my husband and I only and you will be informed, along with everyone else, much further on down the road when that precious baby will be coming into the world and when their due date is. Every time I’m asked this question, I go back in my mind and all I can think about is how stressful my pregnancy was with Seth and how traumatizing birth is. It still frightens me to the core. I’ve had discussions about this with my grief counselor and a close friend or two, and I’m still working through it. Working through grief and trauma together is a double whammy, and not very easily gotten over or moved on from.
It’s still hard for me to look at pictures of when I was pregnant with Aaron. My heart aches that these are the only memories of him that we are able to hold on to. When he traveled around in my belly to work every day, when he came with us on our first wedding anniversary trip to Ocean Shores, when he was honored at both of his baby showers by people who love him, when he went on retreats, picnics, and Seattle adventures with his Aunties and I, and when he walked down the aisle with me during one of my best friend’s weddings. It’s just so hard to grasp.
I am so grateful when friends and family take the time to acknowledge Aaron and that he is a part of our family. He’s not a taboo that we don’t speak about. He is our first born son. I’ve had it said to me on several different occasions that if Aaron was here, then we wouldn’t have Seth. I don’t believe that for a second. I feel in my heart that we would still have had Seth, just maybe not as soon.
On a lighter note: I really do feel like I am making progress at living life the best that I know how. I am working hard at getting myself more organized- both in my home and in my brain- and am about ready to start my own business (WHAT!) next month. I am very excited about what lies ahead for me and my family, and am trying my best to not forget to take care of myself, too, because I'm so good at taking care of everyone else and forgetting about me. I believe that the best is yet to come.