"Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine"
I sang this song to Caden the first time I got to hold him up to my chest without the wires and tubes. I'd sung this song many times, but this time was different. It was the last time I'd sing it to my sweet son in my arms... our parting words. Seconds later he went to be with Jesus.
I remember when I found out I was pregnant with him, dreaming of my life with two babies. A boy and a girl. The completed puzzle of our family. I had a conversation with my friend who is a NICU nurse saying I just couldn't imagine the pain of having a sick baby. Then I got Caden's diagnosis, and I just couldn't imagine the pain of losing him.
We always think it will never be us, until it is.
Having a funeral with a tiny casket is something that only exists in movies until it becomes the heavy reality that is your life and even then, when it's real, you won't know what to do.
This kind of loss, it's one you can't prepare for or ever come back from. It changes you down to your soul. It courses through every vein in your body.
Some days, you question if it's all some crazy nightmare or delusion because the ache is too much to make sense of.
There is no getting over. Only acceptance and the soft touch of slight healing. But, just like a deep injury, a large scar remains. You will never be the same.
But different isn't all bad. While I will never be thankful that Caden died, I can be thankful for what it taught me. How it grew me. I can control some of this unwanted change for good. I keep him close by living out his legacy of joy and love. I can let my change change the world.
And I'll keep my sweet little man "close to my heart, never to part" until I can kiss his sweet cheek again. Every night when his sister and I sing that song, we'll think of him and miss him, but also be filled with big love. ❤
Grief changes you, but you get to decide... does it win and become ruler of your life? Or does the deep love that created it? #ichoosejoy