Of the three years gone variety… I’ve started and stopped, and rewritten and deleted this post a thousand times it seems this week. And it all comes down to just not knowing what exactly to say. I’ve read the blogs of those who went through their losses around the same time as ours- most of whom have little ones now around the same age as Gremlin. Each and every one has had something touching, poignant, resonant to say… and here I sit with nothing. Nothing poignant, nothing profound. I feel empty of words as I did during the early days after he was gone. Empty of a way to express my sadness, my sorrow.

Sorrow that is tempered with joy- joy to feel a new baby boy kicking and strong inside my womb. A baby boy due just a few weeks later than the other. It’s been surreal- I’ve felt a feeling of deja-vu through most of this pregnancy, to discover that I’ve been given what feels like a second chance to raise a son. A son who I hope will grow up to be just like his father. Like his older brother could have, would have, should have been.

It’s been three years, and I no longer feel empty. I feel a kind of peace. It’s taken me three long years, but I know now that I am/was not being punished by having my son taken so soon, that I am not a bad person, and I did not fail him. He was just to precious to stay. And he is happy wherever he is.

But I still miss him dearly.

Happy Birthday little trooper! My one and only Jellybean.