Your little brother is now over 8 months old. It's hard to believe how quickly time has flown. How he is no longer a baby, an infant. How he has transformed into a babbling, crawling, and now walking around furniture, little boy. How he is resembling you more day by day, doing all the funny toddler things you used to do. Yet, how he is so much his own stubborn, quirky, sassy self.
Lately the pain of your loss has a new sharpness to it. My Momma brain has tried to make some sense of how fresh the grief feels...what has brought this on? Is it the passing of your 3rd birthday? Is it the transition of the seasons? Back-to-school time? The rush of Halloween commercials and catalogs?
Or, is it watching The Pickle? Reliving those last 8 months we had with you as you figured out this great, big world? Pickle is trying to put words together, and lately has started saying, "Mamamama." That sound fills my heart with tremendous joy, but also unspeakable sadness. I hear you when those syllables tumble out of his mouth.
He has also developed an electric enthusiasm for mealtime, complete with squeals, grunts, claps and foot kicks. So much like you, his big brother. We started calling you Baby Bird after watching you tilt your face up, mouth wide open eagerly awaiting food.
Peanut, Momma has already jumped waaaaaay ahead of herself and time. But, what happens when The Pickle grows older than you? When he is no longer tracking against your milestones? When we are suddenly blazing a new trail? Will it feel worse? Will the guilt be overwhelming? Or, will there be a certain sense of peace, relief, when that day comes?
I honestly don't know what to expect. Or, how to feel.
I do know it still feels like we're living on borrowed time with The Pickle. There is still an expectation that, like you, he will pass away in his sleep, unexpectedly, without reason.
But, we live each day with love and hope. With a deep, newfound appreciation for every smile, every hug, every "Mamamamama," every tumble, every tear, every giggle, every sunset and every sunrise. Peanut, Dadda and I truly lived with joy and love every day with you, but we always assumed we would have another day. Another year. A lifetime, with you. Now, we wait to see you again in heaven. And, we live, love and laugh in the moment with your brother.
Hey Peanut. Guess how much I love you.
To the moon - and back!
|Peanut at 9 months.|
|Pickle at 8 months.|