Woke up not doing well...but it got better

Today I woke up angry. Angry, that my son is gone and that there are so many people with babies out there who are enjoying their newborns, and I am not. Don't get me wrong, I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone's babies, but most especially to mine. I want to hold him, and sing to him and hear him cry. I want to be up all night feeding him and rocking him. I want to put all of these clothes on his chubby little body and bathe him and smell his hair. But, I can't. All I have is the memory of him kicking me and rolling around and having the hiccups, but I don't know what he sounded like. I don't know what he smelled like or what his eyes looked like. Those things make me horribly angry, and terribly sad. I often think, "What did I do to deserve this?" As if anyone in the world deserves this pain. And I always answer my own question with, "Cerise, God doesn't kill babies. No one took him from me, it was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone, we were just the ones that it happened to." This sometimes helps me, and sometimes hurts me more.

Renato and I decided that since we were feeling this way, we should get out of the house and do something. We decided to go to the National Museum. They had an exhibition of photos documenting a horrible war that happened here from 1980-2000. There were photos of mothers who's children had been killed, and I looked into their eyes and could feel some of their pain. I know that their pain is different, but I know that the pain is similar. I could feel a sad connection to them, and somehow this helped me. To know that I am not isolated in my grief, that there are other women all over the world who know this pain. Women who have lost children, who have had stillbirths, who have grieved over their child. I sometimes cry that I wish he had breathed one breath, or that he had opened his eyes to look at me for one moment, but I know that would have made it that much harder.

My pain is different than others pain, but it is no less real. Renato's pain is different than mine, but it is no less real. I hate that we are going through this, I hate that anyone in the world goes through this. It is so horribly sad that any parent has to bury their child.

I know that there are stages to my grief, and each day I feel stronger than the day before...but I have moments where I just want to feel angry, I just want to cry for him. I just want to wish that there was something I could do to change how this all turned out. But I can't...

Then Maya comes home and I hold her...her brother looked so much like her, that when she closes her eyes we cry. Here baby pictures take our breath away...

I hold her and am grateful that she is there and that I have a beautiful, healthy daughter. I don't know how I would deal with all this without her. My perfect little Mayita. My days get better because of her.