20150423_093453 This Sunday, my Little Boo turns six months young. How can this be? Wasn’t it just last week that we were awaiting his arrival? Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was born? And now he’s precociously scooting around the lower level of the house–it’s almost a crawl. He eats 3 meals a day. He reaches out to us, smiles, interacts with his pup, Lucy, and pretty much loves everyone he meets. I gaze at his sweet little face in awe of him. I cannot believe how far we’ve come. I am so in love with this beautiful boy, and I cannot imagine my life without him. I am trapped some days, however, by an internal struggle; a voice inside reminds me I had to lose my first son to have this son with me. There. I said it. It’s such a cruel truth. This spectacular soul grabbing at my legs as I walk by his jumperoo would not be here if…

If

Dear Lord, it’s so difficult to say, so difficult to understand why it has to be this way. But he would not be here had his brother lived. Not this exact child in all his wonderousness. And I relive the infinite sadness of it all–of losing my firstborn, my innocence. The sadness of knowing my boys will never pose for a family photo together…not really. They will never play in the sandbox together. They will never swim at Nana and Papa’s together.

I will never get to be a ‘Mama Sandwich’ with a 6 foot plus son on each side of me.

Chris will never get to watch a ballgame with both of his boys at his side.

And the list goes on…

We are eternally grateful for what we do have, of course. We know how incredibly blessed we are.

I still can’t believe I blinked, and 6 months have come and gone…

I’m signing off to go spend my afternoon with Homie, before I blink again.

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