The harsh reality has really hit me this week. My son truly is dead. He’s not coming back. I will never know his smile, his personality, hear his sweet giggles, or listen to him tell me he loves me. I will not get to “mother” my son in the same sense that most of you will. But I will still mother my son.
I go to his grave, sit beside him and brush off the leaves. I am mothering my son.
I pray to him at night, tell him stories and talk to him. I am mothering my son.
I hang his picture proudly in our living room. I am mothering my son.
I walk in his memory, raise money for research in hopes that no other family has to endure the loss we have. I am mothering my son.
I will not let people forget about our sweet boy, I say his name often and talk about our experience. I am not afraid of what people might think or say behind my back. It might be weird to some people, some people might be thinking “Get over it already” and most people just don’t understand. I will never “get over it”. I will never forget him. He will always be our firstborn son. And I will continue to be his mother for the rest of my life.
Even though my son is not here on this earth…
I am still a mother.