Can I just say how much 11 months sucks! I was never one to be down and out on the 9th of every month. Yeah, I would think about what he would be doing as he got older but 9 and 11 months has kicked my ass. 9 months, I have no idea why this hit me hard. 11 months, yesterday, has been really hard!
I don't know if it was a culmination of things yesterday or if it was the fact that I can no longer count his absence in months. My friend Rachel just blogged about this a few short days ago. She mentioned the same thing about her little girl, Kayla. Sam will have been gone for more than a year as soon as the clock strikes 12 on May 9th. This hole in my heart seems to be never ending and growing larger in diameter.
11 months also marks some milestones in his life. I can't stop picturing him walking and babbling in conversation with his sister. I find myself trying so hard to fill this gaping hole. 11 months is making me realize this hole is never going to be filled. It is my storm cloud that will follow me for the rest of my life. Until I am able to hold my baby boy again. Nothing will take the place of where my son's memories, hopes, and dreams were supposed to be.
11 months. It's been hard to try to find the balance between honoring my husband and my son's birthday. Both on the 9th. I want to honor my husband, his life, and his own grief. On the other hand, I want to drown myself in my sorrows and honor my son by dedicating my time to him.
It's hard. I have always carried this guilt about Sam being born on my husband's birthday. I feel like I took his son from him on the only day that is to honor him. All he ever wanted was a son, and I gave birth to his dead son on his birthday...Now before any one starts telling me, there's nothing you could have done, I know that. I know that I couldn't control when I went into labor or when Sam died. But there is still guilt. Guilt that I have taken the one thing my husband wanted more than anything. Guilt that I had his son on his birthday only to say goodbye never to say welcome.
11 months. I have been living this life without my son and soon it will be 1 year. I want to so bad get over the first angelversary hill. And yet there is a part of me that wants to stay right here for the rest of my life, never to have to endure the 1 year marker.
11 months. Yeah, my grief has changed. Matured. Tumbled. Evolved. My grief journey has been a path I never thought I would take. 11 months have past in this new life yet I feel so stagnate. I am disappointed that in 11 months I have not better honored Sam's memory, Sam's life. I had/have plans to do so much for this community yet I allow stuff to get in the way. Hold me back. Sam deserve a better mother. 11 months of not doing the boxes for the hospital like I wanted. 11 months that I have not contacted the hospital to do more for moms like me. 11 months that I have not started his non-for-profit, Sam's Promise. 11 months I have not contacted my state government to get them to acknowledge my son's life.
11 months it too long. 1 day is too long. 1 second is too long. I still want my baby boy back.