Another Mother's Day

I was really irritable towards the end of last week. Even more so on Saturday. I kept on breaking down. I'm so used to the random crying spells now.

I miss my son. I'm so thankful for my daughters, but I miss my son and everything he could have done.

It's hard to grieve, especially after a "rainbow baby" -- people think that when you have another child, that child will take the place of the one that you've lost. So you can 'get over it'. Your lost child become a distant memory to those close to you, and completely forgotten by some in your circles.

My throat is closing as I'm writing this. Because that's the pain in my soul. Henry's forgotten. My job as his mother, now, is to keep a part of him alive. I feel like I'm failing in that respect. The lack of participation in our fundraiser is compounding that failure.

'No one cares, get over it. You haven't lost as much as others.'

Yes. Yes, I know. But it still hurts. That gaping, sucking chest wound is a slow burn. All day, every day. I can trace the circle that aches.