Do you think that from the day I was born, from the day my husband was born, it was determined that we would have a child and he would die as a ten month old infant?
Do you think that if we had made one different choice, done one thing different, he would be here now?
Do you think if that were the case, that we would know the difference of what we would have done vs. what we did do (and in that scenario, Lucas would still be here)?
Do you think that we are meant to mourn him till we die?
Do you think that every year, on the day of his surgery, on the day of death, on his birthday, we will try to stop time and re figure it all out, the what ifs, the whens, the hows, they whys?
On October 15 coming up, he would have turned three. I feel myself going down. It has been coming on. At first, I felt it but couldn't put two and two together. Wasn't aware why I was feeling him so strongly more and more, feeling kind of down, thinking so big picture in my head, trying to answer questions I know I cannot. But yes, right, of course, his birthday is coming. Noah has been so very verbal about Lucas this past month. More so than normal. That is wonderful but it doesn't help where my mind is.
Moms-cherish your kids. I know you do. Oh, I so know you do. But really do. Dads-protect them with all of your might. Be strong for them, lead them, love them. We only have the moment we are in. Nothing else is promised to us. Tell them you love them and don't yell. If you do, love them after the angry moment passes. Tell them you want them to know right from wrong and that is tough sometimes but you still love them. Just remember, you can't go back and re do anything. You can't. Do it now, love them now. Hug them now. Because let me tell you, God forbid, when the moment comes, whether it's us or them that is facing our mortality, we can't go back in time.
This is what haunts me to my core. I can't re do anything. I can scream to the clouds that I love him but he isn't here for me to touch, hug, bathe, and care for. It's not the same. Take it from me, take it from Ivan. It's not the same.
On a more serious note, make this moment count. I promise, I have learned this lesson well.
You cook, you clean, you go to work, you nourish, you love, you scold, you are professional and yet you hang your hat on every dust particle in your home. You are a woman. Some women are Moms and some are not. You are still a woman. We are all made similarly. We are strong.
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