34 months

Sometimes it is a sound, other times it is a smell. Little things that remind me of a life I lived before, or a life I wish to be living now. Pregnant bellies, little blue tidbits, a dog with his boy. Wendy's food.
Do you remember that my sweet? That's the thing, Harrison, I don't know when you stopped here. I like to imagine you were here with me until after you were born. That you saw my face, when I saw yours, but I won't know for many years, will I? Anyway, 34 months ago today, I stopped at Wendy's, which I strongly dislike, and picked up food for Gavyn, Emi, and you and I of course. I remember being upset that we were running so late to Gavyn's soccer practice and it was the only place on the way. Then we raced on to soccer. I remember how it felt to hold you on the walk to the fields. You seemed heavier that night. Were you? Is that what it is like to literally hold dead weight? Morbid thoughts, I know. But they are my thoughts.
We got in the car after soccer camp, and I called Steph, not for any particular reason, but I knew something was wrong. I had to keep my mind occupied as I went under the Dodge Street exit, because I wanted to stop at the hospital. There, I said it out loud, sort of. I got on the intersate at Fort street and I wanted to get off, so that the hospital could tell me I was looney to think something was wrong. I kept feeling a pull at that exit, but I wondered what I would do with Gavyn and Emilia..."excuse me honeys, Momma just needs to stop for a sec..." Steph and I talked on the phone about going to a home show that benefited some charity organization, I remember telling her I would go if she could put up with my cankles and while the words came out of my mouth, my mind was telling me that I would not be pregnant then...but I headed those thoughts with a statement to my soul that I was a pessimist and everything was okay. So I talked my way under the Dodge street exit and went right home.
Sometimes I wonder if God just let me have those next few hours to calmly put the kids to bed, before I would wake to the nightmare that you were gone. Most the time, I know it was God, but in the low points I have wondered.
I love you my sweet boy,
Mommy