Monday, September 26, will mark 8 months. Eight months since the horrible, terrifying, unimaginable morning. Tomorrow will mark 8 months since I last heard your breath in my ear, felt one of your tight hugs, saw life and energy in your beautiful blue eyes.
How can it be? Time has felt intolerably slow and painful these last 8 months, but it has also flown by in the blink of an eye. I can't believe we have somehow watched 8 months pass...almost half the time we had with you on earth.
I so distinctly remember when you were 8 months old. It was May 2010. You were crawling, smiling, laughing, beginning to tire of your bottle and baby food. You had morphed overnight from infant to little boy. Every day I saw a new expression, heard a new sound, watched you connected all the dots of the world around you. Every day I saw little reflections of Dadda's sense of humor, my expressive forehead, both our laughs. Every day I discovered, even though I didn't think it was possible, that I loved you even more than the day before.
Peanut, even with the physical absence of you, that love continues to grow, day by day. My heart aches with longing for you, my brain hurts because it can't make sense of your loss, my arms feel painfully empty without you to hold and hug. Yet, the love continues to grow.
Momma is heading to bed tonight with The Bean kicking up a storm, reminding me of the new love and hope growing inside me. I can't help but remember these same bedtime kicks with you. Sending you love and super-tight hugs...to the moon and back.