As we were lying in bed this morning, Kaia asks "am I four yet?"
I thought back 4 years ago, to all the fears and anxieties we had as we awaited the outcome of our second pPROM pregnancy. Would this baby, nicknamed Acorn, survive the delivery? Would Acorn be able to breathe? How much damage does half a pregnancy with minimal to no amniotic fluid cause? Would we have to make tough life or death choices? Would this be the baby we got to bring home? Would Acorn have life-long disabilities?
The fears were overwhelming.
Those days seem so far away from the anxieties and fears we have for her today (Junior Kindergarten in the Fall! a new daycare! learning to read and write! making new friends!). So I laughed as I answered, "Yes baby, you are most definitely four", as I thought to myself..."thank all the stars in the sky".
***
I haven't written on here in almost a whole year, but please don't think I've forgotten about this space or the many people I have connected with through it. I think about many of you often, and hope that your lives are smoother now, the sharp points of grief spaced out between times of joy. I started my MN-NP (Master of Nursing-Nurse Practitioner program) in the Fall and it was absolutely a time-suck this year. If I wasn't working on school work, I was at work (part-time), or at placement, or spending time with Kaia and Brian and the rest of my family, or cleaning or doing chores (and let me tell you, those did not get done nearly enough this year!).
Becoming an NP is hard work. I have another year to go and while I'm looking forward to the learning process, especially my placements, I'm enjoying the summer break right now and catching up with everything I missed this last year (shows! books! movies! friends! family! You still exist!)
Aidan is also never far from my thoughts. This year, his 5th 'dirthday' was spent at school, working on perfecting my physical assessment skills and preparing for an exam. It wasn't what I imagined his 'day' to be like in the early phase of my grief. In my mind, the day he was born and died was going to be a big black hole on the calendar. A day to be blocked off as a day we took a time out as a family, to think of him, remember, and do something in his honour. But as the years pass, I realize how unrealistic that is. Most of us don't do that for LIVING people on their birthday. Sure, there might be a gathering, some cake, food, presents...but often people have to work, go to school. go to the dentist, are sick, get a parking ticket, or maybe even jump off the living room couch and break their arm and have to go to the hospital (ahh, such fond memories of my 7th birthday...), or whatever else life has in store, and sometimes that stuff happens on theirs or their loved ones birthday. Life does not stop, time to reflect is not always available, and those who are dead do not complain.
So now that I have time, I will say, I remember you my boy. While I can no longer picture what life would be like if you were here, I still wish for it.
I am filled with the love for both my babies tonight. The one that is thankfully here and the one that we can only wish for.
