If I Could Turn Back Time…

It’s probably been over a year since I last cried hard for Dax. It happened all the time while I was pregnant with Sebastian. Obviously – I was already pregnant when Dax died. But it became much less after Sebastian was born. That’s what I named my rainbow baby, by the way. It’s one of the few names we could agree on. I thought there was something wrong with me, not crying over my dead son anymore – at least not sober. I guess I did last Halloween. But I did tonight and I don’t even know why. I was trying to fall asleep and he came into my mind. He’s on my mind a lot, of course, but tonight, I don’t know. I guess I was just really feeling the guilt.

I started playing a new video game today. Life is Strange. The main character is a girl who’s a photographer in college and discovers that she can rewind time. I started thinking about where I’d rewind to. My abortion? To Daxon’s last night? Probably the second, just because I know I likely wouldn’t have my two sons otherwise. I need them because I know them with my whole heart. I would go back and listen to my gut and roll him onto his back and stay with him all fucking night. I’d find an Owlet monitor the very next day and take him to the doctor to be thoroughly checked out. I would hug and kiss him for hours and tell him I love him 42 billion times a day.

Most importantly, I would save him.

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Let Me Keep This One

The love I feel for Sebastian is so intense. I had (have) that crazy strong love for Dax, but when he was alive, I didn’t really understand it. It was a whole new kind of love to me and the times I really understood it was in those quiet moments when I’d look at him and my whole self was flooded with so much love, I felt like I couldn’t possibly contain it. It felt like my heart would physically explode. But a lot of the time, I almost felt like I was just watching Dax for someone else. Like I was babysitting a baby cousin or something. There’s no way he could possibly be mine….forever? Maybe that was some spiritual foreshadowing. It was so hard for me to see him growing up.

Now, I understand this love better. Not perfectly, but it’s so perfect that I don’t think I need to understand it. It’s different, but it’s still the same love. I don’t love either of my sons more, but I love them so intensely in such different ways.

I just wish I could see them grow together.

The moments I think about this are surprisingly sporadic. I think my mind has some automatic coping mechanisms in place from my childhood. The “push it to the back” kind of coping mechanisms. It’s really frustrating for me because I feel like my memories and my love for my first son gets “pushed to the back” so often since Sebs has arrived. I am so incredibly glad he’s here, don’t get me wrong. He’s saved me. Quite likely my life, most definitely my relationship. If it weren’t for him, I would probably have gotten hooked drugs and drinking, partying, I would have cheated on Dan in some chemical haze and lost him, then been homeless and hopeless. Who knows how dark things could have gotten…they were pretty dark before Dax was born and I didn’t even know true loss at that point. I didn’t know what love was.

I feel like I can see a future with Sebastian, although I’m very hesitant to focus on that. I’m so afraid of losing him, too. I don’t think I could survive that. I wouldn’t commit suicide out of fear of not being with my babies when I die. That’s the one thing that kept me from doing it after I lost my Daxon. I don’t know why, but it hurts more when I use his full name. It’s like a lunch in the stomach. My relationship with Dan is so much stronger now that I hope I would turn to him instead of drugs and alcohol, but I cannot guarantee that would happen. Part of me misses me old party life as it is. Back when my biggest stress was making rent and paying my bills. Back when friends were everywhere, even if I couldn’t remember their names, when we always had something in common, something to do together. When us “boring people” wouldn’t have to have awkward conversations over coffee about how her husband doesn’t pick up his socks and my baby will probably be walking before his first birthday. Back when we could have a couple lines or a couple pills and talk about our deepest, darkest secrets, about aliens, about our hopes and dreams, about the stuff that tugged at our souls. I miss those talks the most. I wasn’t good at partying. I can’t dance, I can’t flirt, I can’t giggle and make out with strangers all night. But I love those drunken/high talks that go on for hours. That get so deep, you feel a total connection to someone you just met. I remember one of those nights when this girl and I talked about Zeitgeist and fathers and God. I think we only had a brief discussion once after that, when she told me she slept with my ex and I was like, that’s cool, was it any good? But I still felt some love for her, in some strange way. Our souls had connected. Dan won’t do drugs with me ever and that makes me sad. So that’s why I think that if Sebastian dies too, I will be gone. Gone to the world.

My children have become my new identity. I’m not the party girl anymore. I’m Daxon and Sebastian’s mom. Just looking at that sentence makes me smile. When Dax was gone, I lost my identity. Was I still a mommy? I didn’t feel like one. Everything I did throughout my day was gone. All I did all day and night was car for my baby boy. And suddenly, he was gone. If I had to go through that again… I really don’t think I could find my way out. I hope that Dan could, just for his daughter, even if he lost me, too.

I know I shouldn’t be planning for this or thinking about it, but the closer Sebastian gets to the age at which Daxon passed away just puts me more on edge. Between 2-4 months was hard, knowing that that is the age at which SIDS usually occurs. 90% of the time, in fact. But my little boy was in the other 10%. I know that it can happen and I’m terrified.

But for now, I’ll keep his Owlet on, keep loving him every single day, and keep praying to God to please, let me keep this one. Please, don’t take him away.

Empty Arms

You know that feeling when you’re kind of lethargic, but you want to do something but you just can’t figure out what you want to do? You look around, run through your options in your head…video games? Nah. Read a book? Maybe, but not really. Watch a movie? Ugh, no. I get that feeling a lot, especially since I haven’t been working since before my son was born Christmas of 2015. I had the year off to raise him until he was old enough to go into daycare, but then after he passed and I found out I was pregnant and was diagnosed with PTSD, they allowed me to just stay off. I’m very lucky my boyfriend is so supportive. I help out as much as I am able. So all this time off, being alone with my thoughts now, trying to find distractions to fill my days, I get that feeling a lot. Slowly, it dawns on me what it is I really want to do. I want to hold my little boy. That is the only thing in the universe that could satisfy my needs in that moment. But I can’t. In a few months, I’ll be able to hold a new little one, but it won’t be my Dax. I can’t hold him until the day I die, and that day is so painstakingly far from sight. I used to feel like my life was speeding ahead of me and I could never catch up. Now I feel like my death is running from me, playing a cruel game of tag and I’ll never catch it. Not until I’ve forgotten what his little fingers felt like or the way his hair smelled after a bath, or how soft and fine it felt when I ran my fingers through it. I remember the deep divet above his butt crack, the tiny little bump on the daith part of his right ear and the indent on the lobe of his left one that looked like his finger nail had been dug into it in utero when the ear was forming and left an imprint. I remember how every single little part of his body felt in my hands and the weight of his body lying on my chest as he slept. My arms fit around him just perfectly. Nothing had every felt so…belonging, I guess. He belongs with me. He belongs in my arms where he fit just perfectly. 

Now, all I have to fill those moments is tears and gasping breaths, begging God to tell me why He took my baby from me, begging Him to turn back time to that last day so I could stay with him all night long and try to save him.