Goodnight

It’s night time again and everyone around me sleeps. My online friends slowly dwindle as they head off to bed. They have been a comfort, chatting with me as lie here in need of a distraction. The memories of that day continue to come back to me. It is so bittersweet. I want so badly to remember the time we spent together in that hospital room. The few hours I held my son and kissed his sweet forehead. But, at the same time, I want to forget about how painful and heartbreaking it was to hold my son’s lifeless body. It’s so contradicting. It’s so hard to remember something so wonderful and devastating at the same time.

I am wide awake. The insomnia I suffer is relentless. I can lay here in the dark, and try to think of other things. I can listen to calming music and meditate on the things in my life I should be grateful for. I can watch tv or read a book for distraction.

But I cannot escape those memories. They are constantly surrounding me, going through my body like waves. I close my eyes and I’m in that room again. The cart they put newborn babies on for their first exam. The scale used to weigh them. The rocking chair in the corner. The blanket with blue and pink feet on it. I remember the taste of being sick after hearing those awful words. I hear the silence of that ultrasound machine, telling me my boy is gone. The silence is so unbelievably loud.

Could I take something to help me sleep? Yes, of course I could. But it wouldn’t make it all go away. It’s a part of me now, I might as well embrace it. Take it head on. That’s what people keep telling me, that I am so strong for facing this. But I do not feel strong. I am not a warrior. I am just an unwilling participant in this journey.

So here I will lay, late into the night, playing out what has become my life in my head like a movie. Over and over again. Perhaps it will make my empty arms not feel so empty. Maybe the hole in my heart will shrink just a little bit. I just hope that as I do finally drift off to sleep that Bennett will come sit next me, right on my pillow. Come visit me, my sweet boy, and please help my dreams be of peace.