My husband spoke just before the end. It was perfect. He was able to say what I could not - that we feel cheated, alone, and hopeless at times.. but our son lives on, changing people's lives with every day. His heart will go to help someone else bring their baby home.
Our pastor spoke eloquently about losing Henry. He spoke about hope, and comfort.
I only lost it.. well, a few times. I tried. I did the best that I could have done.
I have to constantly remind myself that it's not bad to laugh. That I can breathe in every new day and it's okay to be amused, or amazed. It's okay to live. I may be suffering, but life continues even when it should just stop. It should just stop until I can get back to myself, until I can comfortably tell people about our journey in person. It's obscene that life continues when you feel so much loss. Like a chunk of my chest is gone.
I miss him so much. But he's finally home with us - his urn is in our bedroom. I can talk to him all day long. He stays with us when we sleep. He belongs with us - and I'm relieved to finally - finally! - have him with me.
Our turnout was spectacular. There were between 80-100 people throughout the evening. We felt so supported, talked to so many different people. We felt loved. We know our son was loved by so many people, and they share our pain and grieve along with us. It's just hard to remember in the quiet moments when your eviscerated by sadness.
But I can see how my life is changing. I'm learning to live in a whole different way. It's not a life I would have wanted for myself - one where I'm wondering how to explain brother to Amelia when she's older, how to tell future (?) children about him, how to keep his memory alive without scaring people. His holoprosencephaly was a rare fluke - we hope - but we're going to do our best to help other couples facing this situation.
Ultimately.. We've made the best of it. Henry is my angel baby. He's in the stars, in the rainbow on our drive home, in my heart. He's everywhere. When we die, and meet again.. We'll get to have the life we never got here. We'll be able to see him grow in Another Place. Crawl, walk, run. Ride his first bike. Throw the opening pitch in a baseball game. Just not here on Earth.
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