September is upon me once again. One of these days I believe this month will swallow me whole.
I have an enormous love/hate relationship with this month because in the midst of celebrating a few important birthday's (Henry, Matthew, my dad, and grandmother), I mourn the birth and death of Alexander Lee on September 13, 1995.
It's been 14 years since I held my teeny-tiny son in my arms. Wishing for him to cry, praying for the miracle of all miracles ~ his life. Knowing the harsh reality that he was too tiny for anything to be done. I still have difficulty reconciling the truth with the hopes I once had for him.
As much as I believe that things do, indeed, happen for a reason and as much as I believe in a higher power and His will, I am constantly tripping over the powerful grief that, 14 years later, still overwhelms me.
Time truly does not heal all pain. There are some sorrows that sting like hell no matter how much time passes.
Memories of that day and night are still crystal clear in my mind. Time has not put a fade on them either.
The anguish I feel over not having been enough, physically, for him to continue to grow in my belly shreds me to pieces. Although I knew the probability of carrying him to term was low, due to an incompetent cervix, terminating the pregnancy was never an option. In all honesty, the thought did stroke my brain for all of 2 seconds, I just couldn't do it.
Hindsight? Yeah, it's almost always 20/20. In this instance, and as much as intense agony as his premature birth and subsequent death caused, I wouldn't trade holding him and his beating heart for anything.
So, happy birthday, Alexander Lee, my angel baby. I held you in my arms briefly, once-upon-a-time, yet you will live in my heart and soul forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment