Sometimes I go into his room to feel closer to him. I never thought my little boy could feel so incredibly far away. I had been dreading going back to work because I would have to be away from him and leave him with strangers for hours and hours each day. I was dreading the time he would be done breastfeeding and his father would want to take him overnight or even for weekends. It has now been two months and nine days since I saw my baby alive. Two months and nine days. In the last couple months, I had left him with his father for a few hours here and there. Part of me was happy to have a little bit of a break. I feel so awful saying that now… But a part of me always missed him. I was constantly checking my phone, trying not to text more than once to make sure everything was okay. He is my heart, as I’m sure I’ve said more than once. And now, he is much more than a half hour drive away. I can’t text anyone to see if he’s okay, or go pick him up when he starts missing me and saying “Mum mum mum!” I can’t walk in the door and see his outstretched arms and the pure relief on his face that I’m finally there. I have never felt so unconditionally loved by someone. I have never looked at someone and felt so strongly that my heart would explode within my chest, like I had so much love for that teeny tiny little person, it coundkt possibly all be contained within me.
My life feels so long now. The one thing that has been helping me calm down enough to eventually drift off at night is the thought of us being together again. I imagine his smiling little face and gleeful giggles as I enter Heaven’s gates. Just the face he would make when I opened the door of the truck to take him out. He would kick his little legs in excitement and any crying stopped instantly. I keep promising him I’ll be there with him soon and we’ll be together for eternity. I hope I’m not lying. How could a loving God give me such a perfect little boy, love him with every bit of my soul, take him away after ten months, then not allow us to be together in death? But then again, what kind of mother has her unborn child murdered… I am so afraid. My biggest regret in life is that. It has been since the moment it happened. I cried the second both my babies left my body. Though the second was with tears of pure joy. I am a monster. But can a monster be forgiven once it’s learned to love? If it repents and lives and works to help others from now on? I pray I can be. Every night. I’m not that heinous person I was then. All I care about anymore is being with my babies. The two in Heaven now and this new one, who will hopefully join us after I have gone. I’d like to say I can’t imagine an eternity without Daxon, but I can and it is terrifying. I feel as if I’m already living it. He feels so far away from me… I’m his mommy; he should be in my arms. We should be together. One day…
Every night, I pray to a god that took my baby boy away from me. I’ve asked “why” more times than I can count. I’ve begged for Him to turn back time and give me another chance to be a better mom. I wouldn’t get so annoyed when he’s having a rough day and wants to be held the entire time, I wouldn’t be on my phone at all while he’s awake, I wouldn’t leave him to cry when I got frustrated. I’ve apologized innumerable times for what I did the first time I was pregnant. But that was unforgivable, I think. That is why He took my baby from me, I think. I don’t know how many more times I have to pray for forgiveness, how many more opportunities I need to take to make someone else’s life better, or how long I will have to suffer without my son but I am trying my best. I didn’t kill myself, so I feel like maybe that’s a start. Especially since killing myself would end the life of another tiny baby, as well.
I don’t even feel like I’m alive anymore anyway. There is nothing in my day but pain and longing, with a façade of acceptance and smiles so everyone around me can be okay. In a way, I almost wish I wasn’t pregnant so I wouldn’t have a reason to stay here. That I could walk outside and get in my truck and not care if I get hit by a meandering semi. I could welcome death with open arms and a genuine smile on my face, ready to lift my sweet boy to receive a million kisses and hugs for the rest of eternity. That is probably exactly why I am pregnant. God knows I’ve wanted to die many times in the past. He knew this would kill my heart. Maybe it’s a test, to see if I will let another of my children die at my own hand. To see if I’ve learned my lesson. I have… God, have I ever. My whole life is now dedicated to finding a way back to my little boy. If I have to survive, it’ll be for him and this new baby. I’m so terrified it use won’t be enough… That my time here will end and I’ll move on to the next life, but I won’t be worthy enough to be with him.
I talk to Dax a lot. When I pray, I ask God to let him hear my messages, every time I tell him I love him. I promise him we’ll be together again soon. Nights are the hardest. The house is quiet, my boyfriend is asleep and I’m once again left with my thoughts. I always see him as he was the morning I found him. That’s why I stay awake so late, til 2, 3, 4am. Until exhaustion sets in, it’s either distraction or tears. More often than not, a combination of the two. My boyfriend tells me to lie down and close my eyes and I’ll fall asleep. He doesn’t understand how insane that sounds to me. I have tried that – and ended up lying here for four hours, waiting to sleep, waiting to sleep… He didn’t see what I saw that morning. He didn’t hold his dead baby in his arms. I tried to write more about that morning but I can’t. Just imagining his face that way kills me all over again, a hundred times in a second. This must be what hell feels like.
My mom and aunt said they both dreamt of Dax in Heaven with Auntie Lolo. My aunt dreamt of yellow flowers and he was running toward her, laughing and smiling. Then my mom dreamt of purple flowers and Lolo was catching him and lifting him up.
My son was born Christmas morning last year. He passed away from SIDS on November 2nd this year. My great aunt passed away Christmas Eve a few years ago. Christmas was very hard. My mom kept reminding me that he’s safe and with Auntie Lolo, waiting for me. I told my mom that I’m waiting to die. I’m surviving because I want to go where he is, and because this new baby growing in my belly right now needs me here. I feel so far away from him. My heart feels so far away from me. He had more of my love than I ever even imagined I could be capable of feeling. My little boy was and still is my ray of hope, my reason for being. I saw a tattoo online and, as much as I hate copying tattoos, this one made me cry every time I read it. I can’t even say it out loud without crying. It said “…I am because you were” and I’d like to have a little picture of his favourite stuffed toy, this weird little plaid donkey, at the end of it. He would get so excited and start kicking his legs and smiling when I would give him his donkey to play with in the truck.
I go into his room sometimes. When I need to feel closer to him. When I open the door, all I smell is our old house. The subsidized townhouse we lived in from when he was about a month or two old until I met my boyfriend. We had officially moved in just days before he passed, though we hadn’t slept at our place in over two months and half of his stuff was here. But that smell reminds me of him. Of our time together, just he and I. Of the late nights spent pacing the living room and kitchen or taking a couple steps forward and back in the bedroom to get him to fall asleep. Of sharing my bed with him, the late night feeds where I would just put my breast in his mouth and we wouwill do both drift back to sleep. Of waking up to his beautiful face every single morning, right beside me. I miss a million little things. I have a running list of them I add to from time to time when I think of something he did that I don’t ever want to forget. But it’s everything… I keep running through my mind how each and every part of his tiny little body felt in my hands, how his cheek felt against my lips, his head on my chest and cheek. How he felt in my arms. How he felt leaving my body when I gave birth. I never want to forget. He is my whole heart. If I lose those memories, I’ve lost my heart.