Thursday, January 24, 2013

My heart is in a strange place

Tomorrow marks three years since we found out that Tittle died.

I'm sad.

I wish he, along with his older siblings, was here.

I’m feeling guilty. I received a voicemail a few months ago from The Compassionate Friends asking me to confirm Tittle’s death date for publication in their newsletter. I have not yet returned the voicemail, so Tittle was not listed in the January/February newsletter. It makes me feel like a terrible mom that I didn’t take the small step to have his name in print.

I’m feeling grateful. Yesterday on the way to drop Gus off at daycare, I told him that I loved him, and he told me that he loved me. I responded with that I loved Daddy. He responded that he loved Tittle, Oscar and Bella. This morning, Gus looked out the window and said, “Beautiful sky”; the sky was a brilliant orange. Jon suggested, not to Gus specifically, that he thought someone was trying to say hello. Gus’ response was, “Tittle, Oscar and Bella?” Both of these comments by him were completely unprompted and unsolicited. I don’t know how I got so lucky that the relationship that Gus has with his siblings has been forged already and it didn’t seem that difficult to do.

I’m in awe that starting last week, Gus began asking to take two of his giraffes to bed with him. I know that giraffes are Oscar and Bella, but I include Tittle with those giraffes because the spots on them are quite Tittleish.

I’m wondering if Gus can tell that I’m anxious about tomorrow and has been trying to find ways to tell me that, despite the fact that we have no tangible things from Tittle, that he is not forgotten and is definitely part of our family.

My heart is just a jumble right now. I hope that what I have planned tomorrow makes me and my heart feel closer to Tittle and that the event we're having on Saturday will make me and my heart feel a little less of the aching for my third child.

1 comment:

  1. This is so touching. I love the symbols that you've developed around your babies, we have something similar with our son who died at 17w5d in 2010. Little reminders of his presence that bring us comfort.