Every year, it seems the time Ethan was on Earth becomes a distant memory. Yet, every year, I'm constantly reminded of what isn't and what could've been.
It's a weird conundrum. I want to remember everything about my son, but I also don't want to remember the hurt and pain of it all.
And it sucks. I'm not going to lie and say it's been an easy road. The
Tag: late pregnancy loss
Celebrating Ethan this year was different. I didn't cry as much as I used to (I'll get to that in a minute)It s, but the impact of his loss was still the same. After putting it off for so long, I finally decided next year, I'm going to get Ethan his grave marker.
You're probably wondering why so long since it's been several years (seven to be exact). Well, a
Weird.
That's really all I can muster. It's weird. Not a bad weird. Definitely not a good weird. Not weird.
There's a hole within you that will never close. Sometimes it gets bigger and overwhelming. Sometimes it returns back to size. But it never closes. It never heals. It's just kinda...there.
I lost Ethan seven years ago and I had Bear five years ago. I still feel someone, something is missing from
Okay, that title is being hella dramatic but bear with me here.
I get iffy about Mother's Day. I still have a mother here and I'm one myself. But I always feel there's someone missing. For those new to my blog, I lost our first son, Ethan, several years ago due to incompetent cervix and subsequent premature birth. He lived for two hours.
Ever since his untimely passing, I feel a