Lucky

Sometimes I feel blessed but not lucky.  Sometimes I feel lucky and don't know what all my blessings actually are....

I was talking to a fellow BLM and dear sweet friend the other day on the phone.  She is a little bit farther along on this journey than I am and I have looked to her for some specific help on mine.  She has supported me in ways more than she will ever know.  And hopefully I have given her the support she needs and comfort when it is not coming from anywhere else.  I know a lot of what she is feeling and she knows the same for me.

Almost.

This is her fourth Christmas without her angel baby and my third and we were talking about the struggles we encounter during the holidays....the tears at the drop of a hat....the traditions that are happy but sad....the acknowledgement of our babies that is and isn't there and how to acknowledge them...still.  I was telling her how it has been killing me the last few months whenever I see Chase's photos around the house--and I see them All.The.Time.  They are everywhere.  Not huge photos but little tiny "reminders" posted in about every room.  Our bedroom, my bathroom counter, the office, the kids' rooms, the refrigerator door.  The one on the refrigerator door is one my daughter put there this summer--a magnet that was in her school locker last year.  Its of her holding her baby brother.  The photo is a snapshot in time--a moment in time that is dreadfully painful.  And whenever I see that photo, I feel on the edge of a very high cliff....one that if I am not careful I'll slip and fall right off of.  Those moments were so dark in my memory.  So very tragic and so very very painful.  For a long time I needed those photos around me everywhere.  I needed them to keep him near me.  Everywhere I go.  To see him....not all those tubes and the machines and the blood.  But I saw him as my little boy.   

Now when I see those photos I see the moment in time that they were taken.  And it reminds me of what a painful time in my life that was.  It's hard to pull through that and see our son for the babe that he was.  I feel and see that pain all over again.  

And then while talking to my friend I realize that I am lucky.  So.Very.Lucky.  to have those pictures.  To have held my sweet boy.  To have touched him and felt him and seen him.  She never had that privilege and for that I am deeply saddened.  I am so very grateful for having those pictures and that thought helps me see past the darkness of my photos.  I am very lucky.  I wish so badly she had a picture.  I'm sure she does in her mind but one to see with her eyes and make a connection.  Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be so *lucky* to have pictures with tubes and blood and machines of a very very sick child and that the child would be mine.  But I am.  And I love them with every ounce of my soul.  Thank you to my sister for taking those pictures.  Thank you to God for giving me those four days with my son. Thank you to my son for giving us the love you gave us in that hospital room and I am so thankful that we were all with you when you left us that very sad and painful day.  Because you felt loved, from the very beginning, to the very end.  And that love is still present and felt every day of our lives. ...til we meet again little man.... I love you.