Eight months

Today is 8 months since we held Jacob in our arms. I can’t believe that it has been so long….how is it even possible? Yesterday was 8 months since we found out that he died. These anniversaries are falling on the same days of the week that we found out and that he was born on…a Monday and a Tuesday. The days our lives changed forever.

Right after Jacob died, I couldn’t even imagine this far into the future. It was just within my grasp to see a week into the future, but even that was a struggle. The future was murky and scary and overwhelming. Now here I am, living and doing fairly well. I still have a lot of sad times. I still feel the emptiness. I’m not anywhere near back to my old self. The tears still come fairly frequently. If I get frustrated with something, no matter how small, it often turns into tears and then thinking of him and then the big cry comes on and I just ache for him.

Every time I walk into our bedroom, I say hi to him as that is where his ultrasound picture is and where his bears are. I often talk to him when I’m doing dishes, in the shower, folding laundry. I imagine him there with me as I do those things and what it would be like. When I wake up early for work and feel too tired to get out of bed, I imagine just how tired I should be because I should have gotten up several times in the night with Jacob (or I should have gotten up a few times to go to the bathroom because I should be 5 months pregnant right now). Every time I go out, I think of what the preparation should be for going out. Getting Jacob all bundled up in his snowsuit, packing the diaper bag and then getting him into his carseat.

At church on Sunday, there were flowers on the communion table for another lost baby (who died 7 years ago) and an announcement in the bulletin of the 3 babies who have been born in the past few months (all living). I ran my fingers over their names and imagined seeing Jacob’s name in there too. I was relieved to see that the three pregnant women I saw in September when I was working in the nursery (and who unknowingly caused a pretty big cry while I was still at church) all had babies that lived. The minister, the same one who came to see me 3 times in the hospital, was saying a prayer during the service and talked about all of the people who are suffering for various reasons, including those who have lost a baby. I barely managed to keep myself from crying at certain times in the service but I love that he always seems to mention something about loss when I am there.

Afterwards, I was talking to the Mom who put the flowers on the communion table for her lost little boy Samuel, and Rev. Mike walked by, squeezed my elbow and asked if I was OK. I guess he noticed me struggling during the service, which was nice.

I stopped by Jacob’s garden, of course. The rose that we planted on Christmas Day is in surprisingly good shape.

I don’t have much else to say. I just wish that Jacob was in our arms, that our house had baby stuff all over the place, that I was doing tons of laundry for cute little baby clothes. That my biggest worry was arranging a spot in a day care for when I went back to work. I wish that I wasn’t trying to get pregnant again right now because I had a 3.5 month old baby at home.

All of the wishing is pointless. Nothing can change what has happened. Jacob is gone and I have to accept it and learn to live in a world without my child. I think it will be a lifelong process.