Your Dad's birthday

Dear Jacob,

Yesterday was your Dad's birthday. We thought you would be here, in our arms, for his birthday and for Christmas. Last December was our second month of trying to conceive and I was convinced, as we sat around the tree last Christmas morning, that I would be holding a baby in my arms by this Christmas, or at least be almost ready to give birth.

Your Dad hadn't said anything about how he felt about you not being there on his birthday. But then, as we were driving away from the house, he asked if we should drive by the garden. He was thinking of you. I know he thinks about you alot more than he talks about you.
I tried to be strong for your Dad yesterday and not let him see that I was sad or cry in front of him. I have been doing so much of that lately and I wanted him to have one day of not worrying about me. I got up yesterday morning and put a stew in the crockpot and then made him bacon and eggs for breakfast. And I felt so sad. You should have been in a little seat in the kitchen while I worked. I looked out the kitchen window and saw 3 birds fly by. Could they have been sent from you, August and Cub? I read into things, but when I see something like that, I like to think it is a sign.

When I went grocery shopping Saturday night to get the ingredients for the stew, I stared at the shopping basket and imagined you in your car seat in the basket as I pushed it around. I don't know why I torture myself with these thoughts, but they just come to me and I don't do anything to stop thinking about them. I just want to wallow in the pain sometimes. Most of the time. All of the time.

I talked to Allison on Saturday and was almost inspired enough to put up the Christmas tree, if only because the cats like it. I haven't done it yet though. I just can't seem to do it, all because you aren't here. I feel anxious just thinking about it. I probably would have been more inspired to do it if Cub was still here, if we had seen a nice strong heartbeat on November 8th instead of a dark, empty space.

We went to a mall yesterday, which was scary for me. I am scared to see pregnant women and I'm scared to see newborn baby boys (both of which I saw). We were walking in a department store and I saw one of those rugs that has roads and buildings on it, for little boys and girls to run their toy cars around on. I always thought they were neat and said to your Dad that we have to get one of those when we have a baby. I realized what I was saying as I said it. Your Dad got really happy and put his arm around me. Turns out that is the first time I have spoken about the future that actually included a living child. I always used to talk like that before you died, but of course losing you changed everything.
Missing you and loving you more than you can ever imagine. I wish I could have bought that rug for you.

Love,

Mom