As I am preparing to gather and share thoughts regarding my family and the concept of attachment, I came upon this blog post. You should know that as I read it, I made the decision to take in each and every word with some form of distance: You! Words! Over there. Me? I'll stay right here on the couch with a screen separating us, thank you very much.
Truth? I don't think I'll remain unscathed. Hell, the post hit me hard enough in the gut that I'm posting it here. I anticipate that by letting the words soak into my being overnight, my spirit will be all kinds of prunee tomorrow morning and there will be tears shed in the shower.
Probably lots of tears.
This post. Phew.
I think about her everyday. I think about the two of them together everyday.
Each time I glance at the birthmark on his leg I wonder if she kissed it the day she told him good-bye. I wonder what songs she sang to him when he was growing within her. How often she rubbed her belly. If she smiled when he kicked her and what she did to soothe his restless spirit in the middle of the night. I wonder how she responded to his first cry- if she smiled or if tears crept down her cheeks. What it was like for them when he was hungry- when she fed him, when she realized she couldn't feed him enough, what he was diapered in, if he preferred sleeping in her arms or somewhere else. I think about their final moments together and find it nearly impossible to breathe. I think about his realizing she was gone, his initial moments of missing her... and I want to throw up.
His first night. His first morning.
Her first night. Her first morning.
His first birthday.
The days in-between and the days to come.
I wonder about a lot of things. A whole lot.
Her heartache. His heartache.
Their trauma.
It makes me.... I don't know. It makes me....
Yeah.
