Three years ago today I gave birth to my second and last son. The pain of that loss is - unimaginable. No number of children, laughs, smiles or incredible moments can replace those precious few hours I spent with my son and so today I sit here with tears streaming down my face missing him more than I thought possible.
Sometimes life is about reframing. My life's frame cannot sit squarely on my sons and their absence. I would be an disfunctional mess. So I've had to shift focus. Eli and Wyatt are still in the picture, they're just off to the side and a little blurry. Never left out but only allowed to take center frame on two days of the year, their birthdays.
The salve that I've applied to my broken heart his year is that Eli lived almost his entire life in my body. He knew mostly me. He knew the sound of my voice, when I was happy, when I was sad and everything in between. He felt my body wracked with sobs and my belly bounce with laughter. He heard me singing to him and felt my soft caresses. He slept to the sound of my heartbeat. This brings me a measure of happiness. It is amazing to me that I can still remember so much so vividly three years later, and almost eleven in Wyatt's case. The feelings are still there, they don't leave.
So happy birthday, sweet Eli. This year you have a special treat. Mommy baked and frosted the usual chocolate cupcakes but your three older sisters decorated them and they are spectacular.