Here we go again! Remembering Baby Hart in Word and Song!

Yesterday was the day. It happens every year around this time. My beloved little boy's birthday is drawing near and "the crying" has begun. There is a clear progression that occurs that precipitates "the crying" yet, it always takes me by surprise.

First, around the end of October, a quiet pall, slowly, stealthy, gently drapes itself around my day. It occurs so subtly that I don't notice until it's been in residence for about a week and I've exhausted all other excuses for my irritable (and I'm sure irritating) behavior. Then I get annoyed. Annoyed that I have no more control over my emotions, that my ability to compartmentalize my emotions or at least put a pause on them has completely abandon me. It's my gift, the gift of getting through the day, the gift that enables me to get out of bed each morning, to find joy in each day-and suddenly it's gone. And that's completely annoying!

But still, I go on, annoyed and morose. Short-tempered and appalled at other's (seemingly) complete lack of perspective, at the same time I, myself, over react to the most insignificant slight. With an enormous amount of eye rolling (well, even more than usual!), on I march.

Then, without an ounce of subtlety and complete lack of gentleness, "the crying" begins. Unlike the previous incarnation of grief, this step begins quite abruptly, but still, I am slow to recognize it for what it is.  This is what happened yesterday. Like a spontaneous nosebleed, one moment I was fine, the next, I was spewing bodily fluid.

 I was driving to the grocery, singing "Little Talks" by Of Monsters & Men, enjoying the moment, enjoying the fact that my mind was completely blank, a rare moment of complete lack of responsibility to anyone but myself (and my fellow road mates). And suddenly I realized I was crying. Full-on tears rolling down my cheeks, runny nose, quivering lip-the whole nine yards (and sadly, I'm not a pretty crier-which, ironically, always makes me cry harder!)

Unlike typical crying, "the crying" often comes before thinking, before the even slightest awareness of melancholy. But then, like a dam breaking, the thinking begins and the hurt takes hold. The what-ifs, the should-ofs, the longing come rushing to the front of my mind. I think about Hart, who I miss to infinity and beyond each and every moment of each and every day. I think of my steadfast husband, who is the only other person who comes close to experiencing these same emotions, questions, thoughts and that I am so grateful to share this life with him. I think of my surviving children who are the most amazing people I know- even more so for their capacity to love and empathize, for their ability to put things in perspective and to see things with a complete lack of perspective and because they know what it's like to experience a horrific loss and get up the next day and find joy in the world!

And then I think of the hurt they've experienced and it breaks my heart and I think no one should ever have to know that kind of pain. And I think of Baby Girl who never got to meet her brother, and this just about kills me. And then I think what an enormous emotional price we have paid and I feel guilty, then I think it was completely worth it and that if I could trade one minute of Hart's life to erase all of the pain and heartache, I wouldn't do it.

I think about how lucky I am. How I got to hold and love an amazing little soul. I got to know, hold and fall completely in love with someone who, scientifically speaking, was never even supposed to be here-not even for a minute.

Then as suddenly as it came, "the crying" was gone. "The crying" was gone but the feeling-the feeling remained. It was the same feeling, but completely altered-it was a feeling of warmth- a knowing, a satiation-still as profound, still as intense, but filled with comfort-the same, but different.

"The Crying" Day 2

This morning, about a half-hour into my early morning, family-free quiet time, "the crying" came back for a visit. I know this is "the crying's" motis operandi, but still it caught me by surprise. I will have to work harder at being on guard- expecting the unexpected-but, as a person who jumps every time someone opens a can of Pilsbury biscuits (the pop always gets me) chances are I will continue to be caught off-guard!

Two of the moppets woke-up early (curses!) and saw "the crying". They asked what was wrong and I told them that I was missing baby Hart. I told them that it's okay to be sad and that they shouldn't be upset that I was crying. (I feel very strongly that children don't think it's wrong to be sad or that it should be kept secret). Of course they became quiet and thoughtful-then Baby Girl did what Baby Girl does-she wrote a song! Unbelievably, it occured to me to video her performance (on my phone) because she is the queen of one hit wonders-(actually, she can't remember any of her songs well enough to repeat them) and I didn't ever want to forget this fabulous moment!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQKV5zjdsPA&feature=plcp
It made me smile through my tears and even made me think (for a very brief moment) that early morning quiet time is over-rated!