Steep

My friends, I am struggling. The past few days/weeks/months...the further away Eli's birth gets...my little boy should be a mischevious scamp with dirty feet from running out in the yard. He should be too heavy to carry around, but just the right cuddly size. He should fall asleep in his own bed in his own room every night. He should be learning to talk, to run, to play. He should be making his brothers and sister's lives miserable because he doesn't know how to share and always wants to play.

I know he is with God. I know he is happy, and whole, and safe. But believe it or not, on bad days knowing that doesn't make it any easier.

The other day at Borders, a song we played at Eli's memorial service came on. It was Godspeed by the Dixie Chicks. Believe it or not, I had not heard the song since I heard it at his memorial service. First it took me a while to place the song, then I had missed most of it. So, because I am a glutton for punishment, I went to the music section holding Seth, put on the earphones, and found the song and played it.

I stood there, with my eyes closed, tears rolling down my face, pretending the baby I was holding was Eli. Please don't get me wrong....I love Seth more than life itself. But I was missing his brother, and just to be able to fool myself for one second that I was holding him again this side of heaven...well, I can't even put it into words.

I feel like I am always putting on a show...for the kids, who pray for God to bring Eli back from heaven, for my family, who need to feel like I'm holding it together, for Seth's doctors, who need to know I have his care under control, as he needs so, so much. For my friends, who, as well meaning as they are, did not actually personally give birth to a perfect, 6 pound 6 ounce, chubby, black haired, gorgeous baby who just happened to be dead.

Now, I don't mean to say that I am a wreck every second of the day. In fact, most days I am fine. And that is almost worse. I am, ever so slowly, despite myself, forgetting my son. I am too busy with Seth's needs, and the big kids' needs. I am too busy with our lovely youth group and my wonderful husband. I am forgetting what Eli's hair felt like, what it was like to hold him. I am losing his black curls in my newest son's strawberry blond locks.  No matter how hard I try to hold on, the world is still passing him by, and I am a part of the world.

I hate this grief. I want my baby. I want my four children, all here, all healthy. I don't want this longing, this yearning that will not go away.