Sometimes I wonder if he was even real, was he really mine? He was in my arms for such a short time - born at 5:39 on Wednesday, September 18th and gone by 3:17 on September 29th (though he was recessutated and fought for for nearly another day, in my heart I knew he was gone when I found him). After he was born I said over and over that I couldn't believe he was mine. He was so beautiful, every little bit of him was perfect.
It's impossible to try to accept that his perfect little body is gone now. He grew inside me for so long, he was part of me. I can't physically adjust to it, I can't emotionally understand. All those beautiful, perfect parts as ashes, some of which hang around my neck in a locket I'll never, ever let go of.
My precious baby boy.
The photo of the photo above, on our dining room table after his service. It was taken in our room together for the first night sine he was born. It was Saturday evening, September 21st.
He was wrapped in his blue blanket (I'll keep it with me always) and wearing one of my favourite soft cotton hats - which I had thought was so small before he was born but it was actually way too big for his little newborn head.
At the moment of the photo I think we were both grateful to finally be together. He had been in the NICU since his birth on Wednesday in the late afternoon. I was so happy to have him there snuggled against my chest.
He spent most of the night either crying or nursing, and I think I got about two hours sleep; it was a real welcome to life with a newborn kind of nights. Not easy by any measure, but I was actually excited about it.
I never really got to the point of the ugly sleep deprivation. He left too soon.