Three

Today he would be three. We let C.T. spend some time this morning touching the contents of his brother's special box. He kissed the train outfit (the only clothing B.W. ever wore) and spent time trying to fit the little infant cap on his larger-than-a-20-month-old head. C.T. pointed to the blood mark on B.W.'s blanket - of course we've kept it just as it was the day he was born - and asked if it was poo-poo. He is now saying "brother W" and has been talking about "happy birthday" and "happy W" all day.

We had pancakes together, went to Toys R Us to purchase gifts to donate in B.W.'s memory and had an awful lunch at a mexican restaurant. I was struck today by the number and variety of toys available for three-year old boys. I cried down several aisles as I attempted to select things he would enjoy... of course, not really knowing at all what he would have enjoyed. B wrote his first poem, probably ever, today - an attempt at outwardly remembering the son who completely changed his life. After C.T. wakes from his nap, we will write on and then release some balloons, make homemade pizza and sing a sad, sad, but not totally sad, happy birthday to B.W. At least we have cake.

I mentioned to B that it would have been really nice to have someone send flowers today. You know, since it's my son's birthday today and he is, well, dead. And, within the hour, flowers arrived from a friend (through the local SHARE program). I was so thankful, I called her right away in tears. A few others have acknowledged the day through email or with a card - all warming my heart. My sister, B.W.'s faithful aunt, has lit a candle today and my nieces are making cards to share with us on Saturday (for B.W.) when we get together as a family to remember him.

I guess we try to squeeze in a lot of remembrance activities on his birthday. These things have become meaningful to us in the last three years. Of course, we wish he were here to smother with kisses instead.

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B.W.,

Mommy loves you. So much. I am so proud of you - filled up in awe of you. Thank you for being part of our family. We all miss you. Happy third birthday, my sweet boy.

Love,
Mommy

34 months

We are approaching B.W.’s third birthday and the third anniversary of his death. I am exhausted just thinking about the remembrance gathering we will host again this year. The cake that he can’t enjoy, the presents he won’t open but instead will be donated, the three-year old friends who might have attended had he had a chance to know them – all make this so very difficult to do publicly with our families. I can hardly bare that some of them will probably think “oh, this again?”… that if they do show up for the gathering, that they might ignore B.W.’s scrap book display and the new pages I’ve crafted lovingly because I need to find a way to mother him still. I guess we are gluttons for punishment to attempt this each year. But, if I must keep my heart and mouth muzzled about my boy all year round to accommodate others, aren’t they required to give me just a single day each year where I can shout aloud of my love for him?

I am waiting, with tearful pride, for his birthday in exactly 2 months.

First birthday

C.T. will be one year old tomorrow. I can't believe it. He has perfected holding up his pointer finger with pride when we ask him "how old will you be on your birthday?" When we practice singing happy birthday to him, he pretends to blow out his candles before we get even half way through the song. He is such a big boy already. He registered 23 pounds, 9 oz, in fact, today at his 12 month well-baby check up. (No wonder my back is sore most of the time)...

It's overwhelming to even try to think back to a year ago. On this night one year ago, we were scared C.T. might just slip away right in time for my scheduled induction the next day. That's sort of how we lived each day of those months - expecting the absolute worst and thanking God for each additional day with him. Weak from bedrest, exhausted from 16 months of grief, healing, grasping for hope, stretched like a balloon and with 9 months worth of bruised injection sites, I was a wreck that night. B was too. I really don't know how we made it through those 38 and 1/2 weeks.

And now, well after his birth, we still find ourselves shaking our heads in disbelief that C.T. is here. That we have been granted 351 days (outside of the womb) with him so far. That he is ours to hold. That there is a chance that he might actually outlive us. That though our sadness is always there, he has brought so much joy back into our lives.

Happy birthday, my sweet C.T. Mommy and daddy love you so very much. B.W. does too. He looks down on you each and every day - probably watching out for you. Lucky boy.