Trauma…Monday…

When I googled the definition of trauma, this is what came up, a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. “a personal trauma like the death of a child.

Driving has become a time when my mind begins to return to that day repeatedly, that Monday nine weeks ago… that Monday that turned my world dark… that Monday where I wanted my heart to stop beating with yours… that Monday that showed me thatbyou can be in sheer agony and filled with love both at the same time…As I was driving home my mind went right back to the day I gave birth to you Parker. I think shock is wearing off and reality is setting in. The trauma of that day, of holding my dead son in my arms. My dead son who I birthed. Your still chest that should be rising and falling… eyes that will never see the world never open for me gaze into… your limp body, like a raggedy ann doll placed on my chest. Ten perfect fingers and toes, fingers that will never be enrtwined in mine and feet that I will never hear pitter patter. Silence where your cry and cute little coos should be. Silence so loud it was deafening…meconium was present that day…that indicates that the environment you were in was stressed, that you were in distress…your environment, MY WOMB failed you. I failed you, I failed you Parker and I am sorry… I feel sick…The gaping hole inside of me feels like it grew so much bigger this weekend. Two months since you left the world… instead of taking your cute picture on the monthly blanket I am remembering your lifeless body, as memories are all I will ever have of you…no first mother’s day picture of you…no picture of your big sister holding you, instead she holds our Parker bear…how can this be real, how can this be my life…how do I survive this trauma without you…your sister picked out a book tonight…a book she hasnt looked at in months… she picked out the Best big sister book…my heart hurts for Jordyn, that she will only see her baby brother in pictures. That she will have no memory of you and no memories with you…I regret not having pictures of her with the bump, the baby bump that was you…It makes me angry that they dont allow you to record ultrasounds…when your baby dies and all you have are memories, but none of his heartbeat, pr him moving in your belly because they won’t let you record. What I wouldnt give to have that to listen to. Your heartbeat that never beat outside of me. Your body moving all around that was lifeless outside of me. As the shock wears off I grapple with the idea of being able to keep going. How do you keep putting one foot in fron of the other when one foot is rooted in the past with you…when you dont want to keep moving forward because each day that passes means I am a day further away from you…your silence echoes like a symphonic orchestra in my head Parker…the emptiness is heavy, it weighs me down and swallows me hole… silencing the screams that no one hears…