I am not sure if today is worse than yesterday or not. I know that everything I do reminds me of you. Every time I get up and go to the bathroom without having to find someone to hold you while I do it, every time I am offered a soda and can actually drink it regardless of if it has caffeine in it or not, every time someone jokes about getting me drunk, and I seriously consider the thought of getting mindlessly drunk so I don’t have to feel the pain. I don’t ever want to forget you, but remembering is so painful. I never even got to change one of your diapers. You never even wore one. You never peed on me. You never pooped on me. You never drank from my breast, or even a bottle. You never got to cry, because you couldn’t even breathe. You never got to open your eyes and see me because they weren’t developed yet. You never got to do anything that you should have gotten the chance to do. I will never see you try the taste of lemon out. I will never see you sit up all alone. I will never see you crawl, walk, talk, sing, jump, dance, smile, laugh. The only thing that I will be able to remember is that my body betrayed us both and expelled you way too early and every doctor here stood by and let it happen against my wishes. There is a level of hatred that I have in my heart that I never knew that I could have. But when they stood by and did nothing as my body killed you, they as good as killed you with their own hands. I don’t think that a single hour has gone by today that I have not bawled my eyes out. I just want to be numb for a little while so that I can take the time to process some things before coming back and saying, “Okay. Let’s feel again.” I wish I was like your Daddy. He has this switch that he can turn on and off for his feelings. I don’t. I can’t not feel because my feelings are completely overwhelming me.
Today, Alison from the funeral home came by, and your Daddy and I picked out the urn that we are getting you. I told him that I couldn’t bear to put you in the cold hard ground and only see you every once in a while. I want to be able to see you every day. Even if it is just what is left of you. I am also going to get something called “cremation jewelry.” In other words, I can wear some of your ashes in a necklace for the rest of my life. Or in a ring. Or whatever. I will find the piece of jewelry that reflects you the best. I am angry at God. I am angry at myself. I am angry at your Daddy. I am angry with your Daddy’s parents. I am angry at my parents. I am angry at my sisters, I am angry with the WORLD. You left my heart as empty as a Monday Morning Church. It used to be so full of love, and now it only hurts. I know I have to keep going and I have other children to take care of. But I hurt so bad. I feel empty. I feel barren. I feel like part of my is literally missing. And that part is you. I miss you so much, Carter. I feel lost without you. I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to face the world without you. It’s not fair. Some women pop kids out left and right and treat them like dirt. And some women that love their children unconditionally and would move Heaven, Hell, Earth, Mountains, and Rivers, kick the Devil in the nuts and spit in his eye for their children LOSE them before they are even really “here.” And I know that I am angry and hurting right now, but when people tell me that “God only picks the most beautiful angels,” it PISSES ME OFF. Pick a different beautiful baby. Pick a beautiful baby that was being born to a shitty mother that was going to go two years down the road and drown him or her in the freaking bathtub! Don’t take MY baby! HE WAS MINE, GOD DAMN YOU! And he was stolen from me. People keep telling me to pray about it. And I just CAN’T right now. I have a lot of things to say to God, but not one single thing that I have to say is a thankful thing. The only thing that God could do for me right now is to give me my son back. And that isn’t possible. So I don’t have anything else to say to God right now. At least not anything that would be considered “nice.” And my Daddy always told me that if I don’t have anything nice to say, just don’t say anything at all. So I am trying to put that into practice.
Tomorrow, the lady from the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep Foundation is coming by to take more pictures of you before the funeral home comes to get you to prepare your body for the memorial service. Tomorrow, I am going to need a whole lot of strength. And I don’t think that I’ve got it in me, Carter. I just honestly don’t think so. Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am. But I’m NOT. I feel like I am literally lying to these people. Like if you saw how angry I can be one second and then just bawling my eyes out, begging for my son the next, you wouldn’t think I was strong. You would think that I am bat shit crazy. Bat shit crazy is more what I feel right now. Or completely broken. Those are possible descriptions of what I am right now. Not strong. The strong one is my husband. He cried so hard when Carter was born and died. But he has been my rock. He has taken all of the abuse that I have dished out and asked for more. He has held me while I yelled and screamed and raged at him. He has been the strong person that I need to hold me up, because I just don’t have the strength that I need right now. And he is the “unsung hero.” Everyone continues to tell me that they are sorry for my loss. Not one single person has looked at Jeremy and said, I am so sorry. Because he doesn’t let anyone see how he is feeling. He is busy making sure that I am taken care of, that I am getting to grieve, that I am going through the healing process. And nobody has stopped and said, “You know what? You’re doing a good job, Jeremy.” And that makes me angry too. Everyone tells me how “strong” I am, and they look right past Jeremy. He lost his son too! And nobody recognizes that, Carter! He lost you too! And he has had to hold me hand and let me break down and let me scream and cry and yell and rage and he hasn’t had that option. We’ve cried together a few times. But usually when I am crying to him and there is nothing he can do–he can’t make me feel better, he can’t ease my pain, and then he feels helpless. And I hate to make him feel that way. I do. But I feel bat shit crazy. Not strong. And I just want other people that are going through this to know that it’s “normal” in a situation like this to feel that way. It’s NORMAL. I miss you SO MUCH, son! I just want to hold you and let you drink from my breast, and change your diapers, and get peed on, and rock you at 3am when you are screaming your head off for no particular reason that I can discern. I miss what we could have had. I wanted a Momma’s Boy. And now I don’t even know what the color of your eyes or hair would have been. I miss you. I miss who you were going to grow up to be. And I know that this is just a sad ass post, but right now, that is who I am. I can’t separate myself from the sadness right now. I can’t separate myself from the pain. I feel empty without you.
A friend of ours (Bryan) owns a tattoo shop, and he is going to do memorial tattoos for your Daddy and I for the shop minimum. Which means we are literally paying for the supplies. He isn’t going to make any money off of the actual work he does. And he does PHENOMENAL work. I am still up in the air about what to get done for you. I know that I want to incorporate the Pisces sign into it, because you were born and passed as a Pisces. But what breed of fish? Angelfish? Beta (Japanese Fighting Fish)? What kind of fish represents who you were? What kind of fish is beautiful and yet a fighter until the very bitter end? I don’t know, Carter. How do I even begin to pick up the pieces?
Your Daddy and I talked about having another baby. I told him that I don’t know when (or even if) I will be ready for that again. I am so scared to get pregnant again. Because if this were to happen again, I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t do this a second time. I am having to “bury” my child before I ever got go really meet him. Although we have chosen not to bury you in the cold ground. We are having you cremated and put in an urn in our house. So we can see you every single day. But still. You get the idea. Your Daddy and I picked out a BEAUTIFUL marble urn that is printed to look like teak. It is so pretty, Carter. We are getting the smaller one. The “keepsake” one. And even then, it is probably going to be twice the size that we really “need.” But we are putting a picture of us in there with you that way we are part of the you that we have left. You are going to be cremated in your burial gown. I hate to cremate that beautiful gown, but it was made specifically for you by someone that loves you. And you deserve the best. Genesis I am sure is going to want to put something in there with you to be cremated with you. She was so excited about being a big sister again. And I don’t know how I am going to be able to explain to her that you are gone. It is going to devastate her. I am not sure what Cayce could want to put in there, but I may do one of her handprints and put it in there with you. I may also do a collage of all of my kids’ handprints and put it on the wall. Frame it. From biggest to smallest. Genesis, Cameron, Cayce, and Carter. Get it on beautiful card stock with acid free ink. And voila! Do each child’s print in a different color, that way I can layer them over one another. Start with light colors and work my way to darker ones. Mommy and Daddy might even get in on the action. I need these things, though, Carter. I need people to remember you. I don’t want to pretend that you never existed. I can’t just forget. And I can’t let anyone else forget or even pretend like you never happened. I just can’t do that. I can’t. I love you too much. I love all of my children too much. And I know that somewhere down the line I am going to want another baby, but that time is not right now. I need to heal from the pain that I am in over your death first. I need to come to peace with the most horrible thing that a mother could ever have to deal with. Afterwards, I think I would like to try again, but I don’t think that I will every be able to truly enjoy another pregnancy again. I will never be able to naively enjoy another pregnancy. I will constantly worry and stress that something will happen this time around too. And Jeremy is determined that I WILL give him another son, “even if I give him four more girls before that happens.” Which, don’t get me wrong, I have always wanted a big family, and if you had asked me before all of this happens, I would have been thrilled to hear him say those words. But right now, Little Man, those words scare the shit out of me.
In my head, I know that I am severely depressed, and I am sure that there is anxiety mixed in there as well. But in my heart, I can’t even stomach the idea of going to someone that could never understand what I am going through and expecting them to give me the magic words to make me feel better. It’s not possible. Maybe some medicine to balance me out for a little while, but shit, I don’t need to talk to someone to get drugs. Half the time, you walk in, place your order, walk out, go to the pharmacy and pick it up. I know that it shouldn’t be that way, but money talks, and these days, if you have insurance, you are pretty much golden as far as getting what you want (within reason of course). I just want my son back though. The one thing that would honestly fix this, and it is so far beyond my reach. I just want my son back. I JUST WANT YOU BACK, CARTER! I was cheated out of my time with you. And I want that time back. I want to see you grow up. I want to hug you and feel warmth, not feel how cold and lifeless your tiny little body is. I want to hear you cry. I want to be your Mommy, Carter. I just want to be your Mommy.