The 18th and the 19th. The 18th and the 19th. The 18th and the 19th.
We are three months into this new reality that we are living, and there is a set of two days that will seemingly forever be something different than what they were before. It often feels like the rest of the month is just some sort of between time between one set of 18/19 and the next set. Of course, the 19th would be the day of the month that Liam was born, and the 18th is the day of the month that Liam died. With such incredible emotion handcuffed to each day, and those days being on opposite ends of that spectrum, they make for some long and sad moments.
On the 18th of each month, we think back to those last few moments at the hospital; and we think about how long it’s been since we last held Liam….hoping above all else to not forget what that felt like. On the 19th of each month, we think back to the night that he was born, to joy and sorrow, and to the unknown. We also inexplicably think about what life would be like today had Liam lived: last week he would have been 5 months old.
These mark hard days for us, and I suppose at some point – just like it would be with a healthy baby at home – we will stop thinking in terms of weeks and move onto months. Then months will move onto years, etc. It seems like so long ago since we were in the hospital, yet it the internal hole grows each day.
I wanted so badly to be able to share something positive and non-down-emotional in this post, but it just isn’t happening. It’s not there yet and it might not be for a while.