Every now and then I get flashes in my mind. Flashes of what was, what is, what should be.
Sometimes I have flashes of my pregnancy with Marcellus. Most recently this happened when making chocolate milk, my favorite drink when pregnant with him. I almost expected to look down and see my giant belly and feel him squirming around (yes, the squirming that got him the nickname "Squirmy Wormy" started in utero).
Sometimes I have flashes of what it was like to be in the NICU with him. To have him balled up cozy on my chest. Or to have my head resting against his isollete in exhaustion as I made sure to have my hand gently cupped over his tiny body. Letting him know Mommy was there. Sometimes the things I say bring me right back to the NICU. Asking Mike if he wanted to "snuggle" the other day. "Snuggle time," what we and the nurses often referred to kangaroo care as.
Sometimes I have flashes of that day. That day he died. Flashes are all I can recollect of that day. Flashes of seeing my boy fighting for his life. I've even had flashes of the moments afterward. The people at my house. The emptiness.
And my favorite, but yet almost the most painful of flashes, that ones of what should be. Sometimes I can just see him. How big he would be. What we would be doing. Every time I leave the house when Mike is home I get these flashes of handing him Marcellus. Telling them to have a good "Boys' night" and running down a list of paranoid mommy things.
These flashes are hard, but I am thankful for them. Thankful that I can still see my boy in my mind. That he's there with me, always.
Marcellus, I wish I had more than just the flashes in my head of what should be. I wish those were real. That you were here and you and Daddy could have boys' nights together. When I get flashes from your pregnancy or the NICU I want to go back. I want to go back to that time when you were alive and be with you. To feel you move in pregnancy, to sit at your isollete all day, and to hold you cuddled up on my chest. If we can't have the should be's then I want to go back and relive the what was. Oh my sweet baby boy, I love and miss you so very much! xoxox
My journey of mothering my sweet boy that I hold in my heart, but not in my arms.
What I find the most difficult is what to do with myself now that I am a mother without a baby to care for. I spent months getting used to the idea that I would be getting very little sleep, breastfeeding on demand, changing multiple diapers daily, and everything else that goes along with bringing home a newborn. It's been almost five months and I still have a hard time reconciling myself to the idea that my days are not filled with all these important tasks.
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