It's been 7 months since the day tracker was born. 7 months of this new life. This life that has been simply amazing. How has it been so long since I lived that life? Being a mother with no living children? The mom who felt like I should be a mom but with no child to care for. That seemed like forever ago but so recent as well. My life being a Mum of a 7 month old son is incredible. How do I even describe it? Never would I ever expect to be this happy? Have this much love. Be this blessed? I am thankful everyday for Tracker. I tell God over and over how thankful I am for everything about him. I thank him for his eyes and ears and nose and smile and giggle and for the way he snuggled me today or the way he reaches for me. I thank him daily for it all. For giving me another day with him. and everyday I mean it more than the last day. Everyday I am more grateful.
and since the day Tracker was born I have felt guilty feeling anything but that. Gratitude. Because I feel like if I feel anything else he might take Tracker away. I feel like I have to almost walk on egg shells because if I show that I am the least bit ungrateful, impatient or sad that this will all end.
I don't know why I feel that way but I do.
I have had a really hard time understanding and managing my feelings about Makenzie.
We talk about her every single day. We say her name. We laugh about silly things she did. We ask Tracker questions about her. Everyday she is still in our home. In our life. In our family.
but everyday I also miss her like crazy. And many days I just want to curl up and beg for the world to stop spinning. To put everything on hold. and to just cry.
To miss her.
To miss her with my whole heart.
To ache for her.
To dream about her.
I feel like if I slow down or stop or surrender to those feelings ill miss out on the gift God has given me with Tracker. That ill not see something I should see. That he will think I'm taking Tracker for granted. That I'm not being a good enough mom.
So I push it away. I take a big sigh. I gulp down that giant lump in my throat and I get back to the beautiful life I have with my beautiful son.
Then it comes again. Over and over. and I don't know what to do. It seems to get harder and harder.
I want to scream it out. I want to yell. I want to curl up and let it all fall out in tears.
But I am petrified to do so. I just can't do it.
I let a little out.
But then feel overwhelming guilt and stop myself.
Everyday I look at Tracker and marvel at the child that is in front of me. and then she comes into my head.
and so does the missing. the memories. the realization that she is gone. the images of her casket. her grave. they are all in the front of my mind but I feel if I let them out ill get in trouble or something.
That God will be mad. That I'm being a selfish brat. That he has given me a new and healthy baby so I should be fine. Right?
Every picture I take of Tracker immediately is imagined in a memorial video.
I take a picture of him and his Dad and subconsciously think we will be grateful we have this picture if he dies. Every picture makes me think this. I can't bring myself to ever delete a picture of him. Not even a blurry one. Because I know how it feels when its all over and I know the feeling of wishing I had more pictures. More memories. More of her still.
There is consistently new images in my mind of him dieing.
He drowns in the bathtub, he chokes on his food, he falls, we get into a car accident, someone shakes him, he stops breathing, he gets sick. Every God damn day images run through my mind of him dieing. of god taking him. of holding his body. of having to say good bye. of planning a funeral. of making that memorial video that holds the beginning, middle and end to his life.
and everyday I make myself stop. Stop cleaning, stop working, stop taking. and sit there. Sit there and watch him. Learn every small detail. Memorize his face. His movements. His sounds. I smell him. I love on him. And I beg God not to take him.
I promise I'll be thankful. I'll love more. I'll do more with him. I'll stop more. I'll not get overwhelmed. I'll hold him more. I'll barter. I'll promise one thing as long as he doesn't take my son. Everyday.
Is this good? Is this detrimental? Is this normal?
So much love. So much hurt. So much gratitude. So much missing. So much happiness. So much fear. So much hope. So much denial.
What is okay? What is not?
I don't know.
I don't know how to sort my feelings. I don't really know how to deal with them.
So I write.