There's something about the middle of the night that enhances feelings. Maybe it's the stillness. Maybe it's the overly tiredness. Maybe it's a little of both. But the other night, I found myself in too much pain to sleep.
This time, I deserved it. I was going through old pictures, which is never a good idea unless you're ready to have your heart torn open.
.
As I was scrolling through I stumbled upon the pictures above. They aren't the professional ones we got, but i'm stunned at how perfect he is. I know i'm the only one that feels this way. I'm his mom, his number one advocate and first love. I could stare at him for hours. It's just how the world works. Unconditional love is a beautiful thing.
There's been a few times in my life where people have done that thing where they think it's valuable to tell you physical flaws they think you have. In other words, I've been told more than once that my eyes are "too far apart". But when Jon Gabriel got my eyes, it became my favorite part about me, because it was apart of him. And every part of him is stunning to me.
The pain eventually gets to the point where continuing to feel all of it is a death sentence, but then to not would be a death sentence also.
Because all the feelings are complicated. It's hard to know if they stem from his death and or divorce or the strain of other relationships in my life. Maybe they are all one in the same. The empty bed next to me used to make it all worse. But now, I prefer it that way.
One of my friends called me yesterday. We talked for awhile.
"Do you miss him?" She asked.
I knew she wasn't referring to Jon Gabriel.
"No. I don't. I mean there's some days when I I miss the fact that he was my son's father. But they aren't really one in the same anymore." And it's true. My ex and I both held held the same baby that was a part of each of us, and we both watched him die right before our eyes.
But I told her about the last conversation he and I had. How validating it all was.
Obviously divorce tears apart your life and then leaves you with the most bitter type of loneliness you can imagine. But i've learned you can miss who the person was at certain points of your life, and still know they shouldn't be in your life anymore. That maybe having things torn apart isn't always such a bad thing.
My thoughts are taken back to the 6 weeks check up I had with my doctor after Jon Gabriel passed away. To this day, the smell of hospitals and doctor offices bring back way too many feelings. When I walked in, I could feel the nurse and secretary behind the front desk go silent. They knew my circumstance, but they were the only ones. A mom in the waiting room overheard the secretary verify that I was here for the 6 week check up.
"Congrats on your new baby!" She said. "Thank you" I smiled. I wasn't about to tell her.
"Dr. Gourley is going to be disappointed you didn't bring your baby in with you!" There it is. I was feeling bad for how awkward she was about to feel.
The nurse came to my rescue. "This is a actually a.. unique circumstance." And she quickly led me toward the doctor's office. The nurses grabbed my hands and told me through tears how sorry they were, and asked what they could bring me to make me feel better. They asked me a million questions. I will always remember their kindness. You never forget people like that.
I remember crying when the doctor asked how I was doing. I hate crying. Especially in front of other people. I asked him how long people usually waited to try again.
"I'm not trying to replace him or anything. But the whole thing just feels so unnatural you know? The only thing that feels normal is wanting to be pregnant again."
He told me it was healthy to feel that way. And that it was up to me but he recommended we wait at least 9 months, especially after having an emergency c section.
He did assure me that eventually the most healing thing I could do was have another baby. That whenever he sees women in circumstances like mine, losing a first born, they've all said that having another baby has made a world of difference in their ability to move forward. Not move on, but forward.
And that's when it occurred to me why, 2 and a half years later, I occasionally have really hard time dealing with his death. I'm not even close to that point of being a mom again. I've had to go back and start from the beginning. And that's okay. Because there's a lot I need to create in my life before I get to that point. So it's okay. But it sucks too.
And in the mean time, it helps to go back and remember the little stories like the one above, that led me to where I am right now. I think we're wired for stories. We like to be able to find reasons for things, and stories help us do that. They also connect us to each other, and help us find the people that are for us. Telling a story from start to finish, trying to remember every detail in an attempt to make sense of the experience, it was makes us come alive. And it shows us that all the stuff that happens to us, whether good or bad, it matters.
And so i'll always tell his story. The one that includes extra trips to the doctors office for ultra sounds and the times that he refused to sit still while the ultrasound tech tried to get a good view his heart and one time he straight up did a front flip and put his butt right toward the camera and the time we thought he had died before he really died and the blonde fuzzy hair and blue eyes that look like mine and the time his shoulders were too broad for the premie casket so we had to upgrade to a bigger casket and the time after we pulled the plug and the nurse told me to "leave him on the table on my way out" and the time his heart was still beating and he opened his eyes and stared at me for a little while when he was supposed to be completely sedated, and when I knew from the moment I saw him: "This one is mine." And if I had to choose between having him as my first born and instead having another baby that didn't have a heart defect and that I wouldn't have to watch die in my arms, I'd choose Jon Gabriel.
Again and again and again.
♥♥♥♥♥♥