Just rambling today, honey.

This is the only photo in existence of the two of us together, son. Excuse your mommy's nappy hair, I had just given birth, after all. 

Today is a strange day for me. I've been thinking of you all day long. And I'm not even going to attempt to say that these thoughts flow in an order that would make sense to a normal person so I'm just going to itemize these thoughts instead.

• There will only ever be one picture of the two of us together. How am I supposed to walk around knowing that those moments in the hospital will be my only memories of you?
• Your dad and I went to Wholly Grounds last week (a coffee shop) and I ordered a small, frozen coffee. A small coffee is 12 oz. It was strange for me to think that the treat I was holding in my hand weighed more than you did when you were born. When I tossed it into the trash can I remember feeling like I had lost you once again. Hopefully my Molly Bear won't really take a year to get here. I think if it does, I will just make a bear of my own. 
• Sometimes(especially now that Jamie brought it up to me) I feel like writing a book about loss. I'm sure no one but my family and a few friends would ever see it. But then I start to think that no matter what I wrote or painted or sang or expressed in any way I could think of really; no one will ever truly understand this pain unless it is something they've been through. I don't want to take others to where I am. Don't get me wrong baby, most of the time I am doing very well.. But I will always grieve over you. There will always be dark moments and sad thoughts and I know that will never change because you will never be walking this earth with me.
• In one of my letters to you, I told you I'm too afraid to try to have another child. And that is extremely true. I'm still having nightmares. Another reason I don't want to keep trying; I could never replace you. I don't want anyone to even think that I'm trying. I know that if I ever were to have another child, people would refer to them as my 2nd. But they would really be my third. Technically, they would be my fifth but I was never able to hold your siblings in my hands like I did you. The pain with you is so much more real than with the others. I  held you. I carried you inside of me for months on end. I saw your beautiful face.
  
  
  
  With you, there were many hard decisions that had to be made.
• Do we 'terminate' this pregnancy? When we found out things would ultimately be devastating. This one obviously wasn't a hard decision. I'd take all of the pain all over again. Seeing you was worth the wait.
• Do I check myself into the hospital early and let them take you when I know your chances of survival are even less than the already doomed odds? Nope. I wanted to cherish every possible second that we had together.
• Do we hold you once you arrive? Do we let them bring you to our already haunted room?
  At first the answer to these questions were no. But after going through labor, I just knew I had to see you.
• Perhaps the hardest decision(in my mind, anyway) was whether or not to let the nurse take you from me.
  After I held you twice and your father held you once, I just knew in my mind that if I didn't let you go, it would be that much harder. In those mere moments that we had with you, I fell in love with you. It didn't take words. I didn't have to hear your cries or watch you breathe. You were so very perfect, my son. I knew that the longer I held you, the harder it would be for me to let you go.
  
  
• Sometimes when my arms feel empty, I hold your ashes. I will lay on the bed with that manila envelope  and feel the weightlessness of you on my chest. At night when I can't sleep I curl up in front of your chest with your teddy bear in my lap and I go through your photo album by cell phone light. Though I know you're not physically with me, I can always feel your presence there. I promise son, I will always find time to spend with you.
  
  And I will never cease to write you letters.
  -Mom.