18 months. a run. another run. and yo mama!…just wants you back.

Paxton,

I do not like when so many days pass between the times I quiet the noise in my mind and calm the quake in my soul long enough to sit down and write you. Rest assured, regardless of whether or not I write, I am thinking of you, worrying about you, and most of all wishing you were here with me throughout each moment of every day. I’ve come to realize that the times I ‘shut down’ on writing coincide with the times I shut down on feeling. Every morning before I force myself out of bed, I remember the promise I made to you. I remind myself that even though my entire world has crumbled before my eyes – my son is depending on me to keep his spirit alive. Although I almost always want to roll over and sleep until I never wake up, I (eventually) force my feet to the ground, put on a mask (of bravado) and set out to face another day. Truth be told, there have been stretches of time when, despite my greatest intentions and most valiant efforts, it is just far too difficult to execute the charade. The past few weeks have been one of those stretches. Among a cluster fuck of events I didn’t see coming were: July ending, August 6th, and today…August 12th.

You should have turned 18 months old today. The notion of you being a year and a half, and the fact that we’d have spent every waking moment of an excitement-filled, action-packed summer together, made today more difficult than most other “month markers”. I still do something new on the 12th of each month to honor the date on which you were born. So far it hasn’t been anything grandiose or complicated – just new. I simply cannot bypass an opportunity to participate in a novel activity as a way to recognize such a happy and beautiful event. The layman likely remains unaware of my ritual; I don’t talk about it with too many people…other than you, of course. The fact that both of us were born on the 12th sweetens the pot. Besides being totally radical, it also serves as another intricacy of our very own secret society.

Today didn’t start out well. But by mid-afternoon I managed to gather my wits and set out to pay tribute to the 12th. I drove to a new park…far away-ish from our home, to run. At one point during my not-at-all-easy-or-even-kind-of-fun-run, a little yellow finch flew right in front of me. Even though the 918% humidity, a too fast pace, and a heavy heart made breathing nearly impossible, I said aloud, “Well. Hello there, Diddy.” I know it was you. I even got chills all along my right shin again. After my run, I sat on a picnic bench and took in the scene around me. One look into the late afternoon, grey sky was all it took to determine I hadn’t done nearly enough to make you proud. So I stood up, hopped off the picnic bench and ran more. Somehow I managed to go faster and feel stronger that round. Confident you’d be at least sort of impressed with the second wind I pulled out of my ass, I headed home.

Tonight I embarked on a second new adventure. A special, little girl managed to sway me  to support her request for an impromptu stop at the cutest frozen yogurt shop, Yo Mama!. The kids at BCHS have been talking to me about it for months. Your cousins convinced Ms. Allison to take them, along with her three daughters, there a few weeks ago. They’ve been raving about it too. So I finally went. Unbeknownst to me, throughout the month of August a percentage of Yo Mama! sales will be donated to the Ronald McDonald House. Serendipitous? I simply think not. I believe you knew it was the exact place I needed to go to provide a meaningful end to an otherwise not so meaningful day.

The entire time I was at Yo Mama!, visions of you eating a tiny bowl of frozen yogurt looped through my head. I saw streams of yogurt running down your pudgy, but perfect, wrists and dripping onto your t-shirt; as you’d surely have insisted on trying to feed yourself. I imagined diverting your attention just long enough to allow me an opening to swarm in and pick tiny pieces of napkin off your chin…which remained stuck after failed (and obsessive compulsive) attempts to wipe your adorable face clean. I pictured you running over to the crayons and paper at ‘Mama’s Art Board’ to create a colorful, firestorm of happiness before setting back out into the warm, summer night. As I passed the art board, I paused. Seemingly on instinct, I put down my yogurt and drew a picture for you.

I am sorry it’s been so long since I have written. Such a large part of my life is consumed by matters with which I would never burden you. You are my baby and need not worry about such affairs. I will shield you from the heartache the same way I would have if you were here where you should be. I will concurrently strive to be alive instead of to merely exist. (A feat far more difficult than most could begin to imagine.) Yet, I know there are days when I fail miserably. In turn, I fear I leave you deeply disappointed. On those days, and on the good days too, please hold onto this truth; carry it with you in the deepest part of your beautiful soul. No matter where I am, who I am with, or what I am doing – I am always longing for you to be there with me.

I miss you. I love you. I wish you could have had frozen yogurt today too.

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Stay with me, Sweet Boy.

xoox,

Momma

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2 thoughts on “18 months. a run. another run. and yo mama!…just wants you back.

  1. I stumbled upon your blog – through a search for “warriormomma”, hunting for birth trauma resources. Your story, and your raw honest writing style have my rapt attention, and now I am completely in love with two complete strangers. With tears streaming down my face, my heart is simultaneously overflowing and gouged open. I salute you, warriormomma. Emotional scars and blood-gushing heart, you soldier on. Made empty and made whole, transformed and yet still stuck in the in-between, the green goo of the chrysalis. And I am in awe, that you bravely live with so much love! Loving your son and loving yourself. A beautiful act of vulnerability – not weakness at all – but risking that which we all crave – connection. Your connection with Paxton is a precious gift! And in sharing your story, you have made a connection with me. I’ll see you on the path to becoming a love warrior.

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