I was cleaning today and came across the little white booties and hat Maxwell was wearing when they brought him to me from the NICU.
There are only a few loose ends left to tie up relating to the birth of Maxwell. We are still waiting for the autopsy report to come back. I need to go through all of his things and place them in an acid free memory box for later. We are still working on ordering his headstone. I think about how I “planned” my life to be, how I “planned” to have my children. It is hard to think that Lincoln won’t have a living little sibling until he is 3 1/2 or 4, best case scenario. I didn’t “plan” for such a big gap between children- and I know realistically he already has a little brother- but you know what I mean.
We were at Isabelle’s ballet recital last weekend and a super nice mom asked me how many children I have. Ohhhh what a loaded question. I told her I have three- Izzie, Lincoln who is 2 1/2 and a sweet newborn that passed away in April. It’s a great way to end a conversation, in case you are wondering. They always feel bad, and it’s awkward… and they don’t know what to say… and sometimes I cry. Maybe it would be more simple just to list Iz and Linc, but Maxwell is so much a part of our family I just can’t bear to leave him out. It feels so fresh.
Talking about loss is awkward. Our infant loss is especially awkward I think because it is so rare and unexpected. People don’t know what to say, but I find it’s worse when nothing is said at all. I’m sure they don’t want to upset me, but totally ignoring the fact that I was 9 months pregnant last time I saw them is so weird.
At dinner the other night there was a brand new baby across the way. Tiny, like seven pounds, totally floppy and asleep. And I could barely keep it together. What I wouldn’t give for just a few more minutes with my pink baby, just to prop on my shoulder and pat his back to burp him. It seems so unfair sometimes. Dinner was a little chaotic and I was distracted by this sweet newborn and just when I was about to burst into tears Lincoln leaned over out of the blue and kissed me right on the mouth. And I felt like it was totally from Max saying Mom I’m here, I’m with you, it will be okay.
Thursdays are hard. The 24th is hard. Night time is hard.
When I was having a particularly sad night last week, I went into to tuck in sleepy Lincoln. Rockabye mama, rockabye he said. And of course I picked up him and held him like a newborn and tickled his face and kissed his skin. I love him so much I could just explode. Anyway, he could tell I was sad and he said, “awww you need yo’ mama” and took his paci out and offered it to me. Like hey mom, this makes me feel better when I am sad and maybe it will help you too. Children are so special, they can feel things even when they don’t understand them.
4 thoughts on “salt”
I've never met you, but your story has touched me. My heart aches for your loss of your sweet baby boy. Your writing is beautiful and so is your testimony. Thank you for sharing this journey, I've truly been uplifted by your thoughts- even though I'm in tears myself. May the Lord surround you in His love until you can hold your sweet little boy again.
Oh Micci, I still am on my knees in prayer for you every night, which is when I find that the sadness creeps in a little more. I pray for your strength and for peace and understanding and for comfort. I hope that you keep finding these little reminders of baby Max, but I hope that someday soon they fill you with more warmth than they do loss. I'm so sorry, my friend. If you ever want to hang out and talk and eat delicious things, I'd love to!
I, too, have never met you, but am so incredibly touched by your story. My mama heart aches for you, but I have faith that max's life was not in vain. I just gave birth to my 3rd baby in March. He is a dark-haired little guy, just like yours (my only baby born with dark hair and lots of it). Every time I kiss his little head, I say a prayer for you. We don't always understand God's timing, but I have faith that in the end, it is perfect. May you find peace in all of this and trust that your journey is such a testimony to others, even if you have never met.
Micci – I am so sorry. I can't imagine what your going through. I pray for you often. I am glad you have an amazing family and awesome friends by your side. Hugs!