Pictures say a 1000 words.

The last two days, I've been trying to express how I feel about my girls becoming the same age and now older than their big brother.

Words just can't seem to express how I feel.

To the outsiders, my girls becoming this age is no big deal.  But to baby/child loss Mama's, it's a huge thing.  I don't know a single BLM who didn't acknowledge the same milestone with their younger children or rainbow babies.

This hurts, but yet needs to be celebrated.

This is a joyous time, but yet I've cried more in the last 3 days than I have in the last year.

This is a time to celebrate a milestone, but yet also a time to mourn my son.

Doesn't make much sense does it?  Yeah, welcome to my world.

I wanted to share something today that I've never shared with many people.  I want you guys to be able to see my feelings.  I can sit here and talk about how bad I hurt until I'm blue in the face.  I can tell you guys how bad it hurts to have one child in the ground, but still have two others at home.  No amount of words will EVER be able to convey my true feelings.

Until today (possibly).
You wanna experience my reality for half a second?
Read on.

This is my reality.

Life.

Today.
5 years, 2 months, 17 days.

vs.








Death.

5 years, 2 months, 17 days.

This is real.  This is what I struggle with every. single. day.

Loving and mothering my living daughters while still grieving my dead son.

I've yet to find the balance.

I try so hard to celebrate their milestones instead of comparing them to milestones that Erik never reached.

It's hard.  It's so hard.

I should be the mother of three LIVING children.

I shouldn't know what it's like to live this life.

I wish that I were still oblivious to child loss and tiny caskets and burial plots and memorials and remembrance ceremonies and songs that remind me of death and the smell of funeral homes and the sirens on rescue vehicles.

But I'm not.

I buried my child and this is my life.