Charlie was born on Father’s Day.
This weekend is so, so hard for us, every year.
It’s odd, how my mind works. It doesn’t know what date Thursday was that year, or Friday, or Saturday – I only remember the date of Sunday because it was his birthday. But I remember what happened by the day of the week.
That makes Father’s Day weekend hard, harder than his birthday date, actually. Because I remember (can’t help remembering, which is akin to a PTSD type reaction) based on the time of day and day of the week.
This year, I’m distracting myself to get through it. We’re still honoring Charlie with a birthday party, but overall, I’m focusing on other things (and you know, I have plenty of logistical stuff to focus on…).
But I’m triggered by so many things. Even last week, basically anytime in June, I’m much more sensitive. The year Charlie was buried, there were little blue dragonflies in the cemetery constantly. Last weekend I saw teal ones with black wings. Nothing alike, except the vibrancy of the color, and that they were dragonflies. But I cried. I’m on edge constantly, never knowing what thing might remind me.
This weekend is the worst, though.
Thursday was the night Charlie was still fine. The baby was still moving on Thursday, I’m fairly sure. We played a boardgame that night, and I felt him wiggling and shifting. I’d been having braxton hicks all week, so I knew baby was getting ready.
He must have turned to get into position that night, and turned the wrong way and gotten tighter tangled.
Friday something was off. He was sideways for a bit, and I wasn’t believed about that, except by my hubby. Baby had been so consistently head down, so I couldn’t possibly be right, right?
Saturday was the horrible day. The silent ultrasound. The hospital. All the medical side of it.
Sunday he was born, Sunday we held him.
It’s so hard, being thrust into those memories by anything and everything. By noting the day of the week, noting the time of day, just being – just knowing, at this time, this happened.
I don’t want to viscerally remember. I want the bad memories to be more distant.
I love Charlie so much. And there was such mixed emotion on his birthday. Seeing his little nose, laughing at his giant hands and feet, after I’d given my best friend such a hard time about her baby’s big feet. So many things I remember and never want to forget, but there are so many things I wish I at least had more distance from. So much emotional pain, wracking sorrow.
So, this weekend is hard. This year, I’m leaning toward distractions, and have asked friends to help me find funny or silly or interesting videos to watch (but avoiding trigger issues), so I can laugh, and focus on something besides the deep ache inside me.
This is my baby. I love him, and I miss him so much.
|Our family, complete.|
|My favorite picture from that day. Daddy, holding Charlie.|
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